Lying Sensations

Disclaimer: Nothing you may or may not recognize belongs to me. All due credit must be given to the all powerful J.K.Rowling to whom the world of Harry Potter in all its brilliance belongs and thus leaving me to claim responsibility solely for the plot of this piece and nothing more. Just to clear things up I in no way claim anything that is recognizable as being copyrighted and I am making no profit what so ever from this piece.

I would like to sincerely thank my wonderful beta roxierose13 [who is also an amazing author, so once you’re done this fic go check out her work. And see if you can convince her to write more DomHarry fics] without whom this fic would have been a quivering mound of grammatical filth trapped in a quagmire of commaless insanity.


Lying Sensations


Two speeding figures were hurrying through an otherwise deserted corridor on the seventh floor of a mighty and ancient castle popularly known as Hogwarts, and it just so happened that the two were hurtling straight towards each other. So whether by some cruel twist of fate or the common laws of physics, the two seventh-year boys came together with a sickening crack that resulted in the both of them rebounding with enough force to deposit them quite harshly on their respectable asses.

Draco Malfoy was on his feet within seconds of being so discourteously dumped, being the true and well-bred pureblood that he was. After all, it wasn’t respectable for a Malfoy to be found on the dirty stone floor upon which only god knows how many Muggle-born entities have tread.

It took Harry ‘the Boy Who Lived’ Potter a few moments longer to gather his thoughts and lurch to his feet looking quite dazed but otherwise unhurt. Having accomplished the task in a none too graceful manor, he was just about to continue on his way when he heard Draco clear his throat purposefully behind him.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Harry snapped, and, in his haste, he even managed to forget the customary derogatory ferret related comment.

“An apology for dishonouring my pure and undiluted bloodline by daring to touch my perfectly aristocratic and unblemished skin with you half-blood filth.” Draco replied automatically, such uniform requests were all but second nature to the blond, who had grown up the heir to one of the wizarding world’s richest families. It was all very ironic, considering he wouldn’t have loved anything more than to feel Harry’s wonderfully tan skin under his fingers at that very moment.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, quite unaware as to whom he was apologizing, let alone for what. He turned to leave when, suddenly, a very delayed bolt of realization struck him, seemingly from out of the blue. “Wait one Dark Lord damned minute, what are you doing here, Malfoy?”

“I could ask you the very same thing, Potter.” ‘It’s Tuesday, Potter, you should be on the Quidditch pitch working that finely toned ass off until your shirt sticks to you like a second skin and your hair becomes more unruly than usual. Now what on earth are you doing here? If you’re here then there is no point in me rushing of to the Quidditch pitch now is there? Why would I want to be there without you riding around on that pricey little broom of yours in plain view of any gay, rich Malfoy admires you may have?’ Needless to say, none of Draco’s thoughts made it past the arrogant smirk he now wore and for that he was grateful.

“Hold on, what day is it today?” ‘Great job, Harry. Now he won’t notice you’ve gone bonkers on the world.’

“Are you bloody serious, Potter?” Draco stared incredulously at the golden boy for a moment before deciding that the smartest thing to do would be to answer the boy who was now glaring death his way. “It’s Tuesday.” Draco said, his tone still weighed down by disbelief.

“Damn, no wonder you’re not-” ‘Shit, what do I say now?!’ “No wonder you’re not so Malfoyish today. Mars lines up with Jupiter and Uranus is in the fifth house which means people are less likely to display their usual characteristics,” Harry covered lamely.

‘I lost you when you mentioned my anus,’ Draco mused silently. “Oh, is that so?” Draco said out loud, not at all paying attention to what he was so casually taking an interest in. His silver eyes wandered down Harry’s body, deliciously drinking in the very fine view. ‘You should wear clothes that fit you more often, it really helps my imagination kick up; not that it needs any help when it comes to you.’

“Eh… Malfoy, whatcha looking at?”

Draco glanced up and barely avoided blushing as he caught the suspicious glint in Harry’s emerald gaze.

“Your pathetic excuse for clothes,” he replied untruthfully. “But enough about me, where were you headed in such a hurry, Potter?”

Harry shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and it was then that Draco noticed the rather prominent bulge in Harry’s pants. Now things were really getting interesting. “To Quidditch practice, of course,” Harry replied. Lying was an easy feat for him, and he felt no guilt whatsoever when lying to Malfoy. What did make him nervous was the way Draco’s eyes lit up as they scanned his body none too discretely.

“Really?” Draco asked in a lazy drawl, but a split second later his tone turned commanding. “Don’t lie to me, Potter. You didn’t even know what day of the week it was.”

‘Oh, so not true, it’s just that I thought it was a different day than the one it happened to be.’ “Fine, I was heading to the library to meet up with Hermione. I just didn’t think it was necessary for me to give you an opportunity to clarify where you stand with the whole Mudblood issue, alright?” A smooth lie and this time there was no way for Malfoy to know he wasn’t being truthful.

“You’re lying again, Potter. I know for a fact that Granger has extra advanced lessons with McGonagall every Tuesday of the week.” Draco licked his lips slightly as he let his eyes wander even lower, following Harry’s nicely clad, and seemingly endless, legs.

‘Damn, caught again. Okay, only one thing left to do– why is Malfoy eyeing me like that- I must play on his arrogance and– damn, Malfoy, stop looking at me with that needy gaze, it’s too much of a suggestive gesture– superiority.’ “All right, you caught me. I was headed to Snape’s office for my weekly remedial potions lessons. Now if we’re done with this idle chitchat, I have to go, I was late as it was.” Harry made to leave.

“I thought I told you to stop lying. Severus spends Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Hog’s Head, and he wouldn’t give up that tradition to help you with potions.” Draco smirked at the flustered expression on Harry’s face. Damn, he just looked so fuckable. “Didn’t anyone teach you that lying is a very, very bad habit?”

“No, in fact, I’ve found lying to be an infinitely useful skill. But, you being who you are, you must know at least that much, Malfoy,” Harry’s tone did not match his words; it was airy and breathless but then again who wouldn’t be breathless under the scrutinizing gaze of the very hot blond that now stood before him? Harry’s already hard cock gave an involuntary twitch as Malfoy advanced on him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Draco pulled off the innocent act rather professionally. “I suppose I’ll just have to teach you exactly how bad it is to lie. I think a little punishment is an order.” Harry shuddered and his cock strained against the confining material of his trousers.

Draco stepped forward and, in one swift movement, slammed Harry into the stone wall that was to his back. Placing one hand on his chest, he lowered his other hand and momentarily palmed Harry through the thin material of his pants. The contact ripped an airy gasp from Harry, who arched into the fleeting touch. Draco smirked and leaned forward to capture Harry’s lips with his own.

Suddenly the wall behind them gave way to a hollow archway and dumped their tangled form onto a plush navy blue mattress. “Oh, right, the Room of Requirement,” Draco murmured distractedly against Harry’s mouth. “The perfect place to teach you a lesson.” The archway closed behind them, and Draco shifted his body slightly, causing two straining erections to meet. The contact sent stabs of pleasure coursing through the both of them and tore a hazy groan from each teen.

They were both roughly the same size and, seeing as Harry wasn’t struggling at all, Draco found it very easy to pin the youth under him by simply sitting on his chest with one hand holding both of Harry’s hands above his head in a well-practiced grip. Draco swiftly disposed of Harry’s glasses and muttered a temporary vision correction charm that ensured Harry could clearly see everything that was going on.

“So, Potter, are you ready to start telling the truth yet?”

“Call me Harry,” he murmured but didn’t say anything more. Draco wriggled a shapely eyebrow at him and smirked.

“I have no quarrels with that; now, Harry, where were you headed in such a hurry this fine evening?”

“Do you think I’ll just come right out and tell you?” Harry asked, clearly enjoying himself by now.

“What do you take me for, stupid?” Draco leaned down and began to trail butterfly kisses along Harry’s collarbone, pausing briefly to suck insistently on the tender skin covering the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Harry couldn’t help but moan as the sensation of Draco’s insistent mouth on his neck sent all the fires of hell racing though his veins. “Of course, you won’t come right out and tell me your heart’s deepest desire but be forewarned, you’ll find me quite convincing when I have the mind to be.”

“Are you sure you can resist me for that long?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible with Draco dominating him as he was.

“We’ll just have to find out, now, won’t we?” Draco replied with a devious smirk, one that foretold troubling times for the resident Golden Boy.

Perhaps upon some marvellous stroke of luck or perhaps as a result of some ancient force of magic, Draco’s stray hand caught on a leather rope lying just off to the side of the bed. Grabbing it, he secured Harry’s hands to the railings of the headboard behind the raven hair with a few well-practiced and efficient movements. He then began working on the buttons of Harry’s shirt (the robes has been previously discarded). Pulling the shirt all but off, Draco used it to secure Harry’s wrists even further.

Draco now had a half naked, bonded and severely aroused Harry beneath him; this was turning out better than any memorable fantasy or dream that had ever wandering through the gutters of his mind. Draco lowered his mouth to the golden and unblemished skin that invaded his vision, whether by magic or through Potter physique every inch of Harry’s skin seemed to be coloured the same light golden hue. But it wasn’t as though Draco had never seen Harry without a top on; what type of Malfoy would he be if he hadn’t covered as least that much to date?

Draco tangled one hand in Harry’s mop of black hair and brought his lips down against the youth’s own in a sweet, savouring kiss. Harry moaned and slipped his tongue out, proceeding to run it along Draco’s lower lip, asking the blond to open his mouth, but Draco wasn’t having it.

“Uh-uh, none of that. I’m the one in control here and when I run things, I do it one hundred percent my way.” He focused his talented mouth instead upon Harry’s left nipple; it was already hard and expectant and undeniably sensitive. As he clamped his mouth down on the nub, Harry let out what could only be comparable to a feral growl and threw his head back quite violently.

While Draco’s tongue and teeth played with one nipple, his hand tweaked and stroked the other. Within moments this rhythmical treatment, he had Harry moaning and panting uncontrollably beneath him.

“So, Harry, what else have you been lying about?”

Harry tilted his head and looked at Draco with an unbearably adorable expression that screamed confusion. Anyone but the ice prince himself would have broken under the gaze, but Draco wiped it off his face with a particularly painful twist of one nipple.

“Damn, that fucking hurt, Malfoy.” But Harry’s glazed expression did not by any means match his words.

“Looks like I caught myself a masochist here.” Draco drew his nails the length of Harry’s toned chest and watched as green eyes shut tight and his back arched to the sensation. “So, Harry, is the sob story about those awful Muggles you live with beating you each day in attempt to straighten you out true?”

“Um, yes, of course, it-” The rest of his sentence was lost amongst the low moan that Draco drew from Harry by moving back a couple inches and grinding down on Harry’s neglected erection. “Fuck… alright, they only beat me if I didn’t listen to what they said or when something magical happened. Except for Dudley; it was a sport for him, ‘Harry Hunting’ he called it.”

Draco was a little unnerved by his answer and so he accepted it as the truth. “Alright then, how about that interview you gave outlining the possibility that you are, in fact, the last remaining descendant of Godric Gryffindor himself?” Draco skimmed his teeth on the tender skin of Harry’s earlobe then began to kiss a slow and tantalizing path down Harry’s upper torso.

“Bullshit,” Harry replied breathlessly. “Dumbledore told me to say something to boost the public’s confidence in me. I made that story up on the spot; I couldn’t tell you how it went even if I wanted to. Damn, Draco, get on with it!”

“Tsk. Tsk. Have some patience, will you? I’m worth the wait, I assure you.” Draco swirled his tongue around Harry’s belly button. The boy below him bucked his hips as best he could in such a position, clearly tiring of Draco’s taunts quite fast. Draco brought his lips against Harry’s own and engaged him in a series of short, fiery kisses that only served to fuel their need for each other and to outline each teen’s struggle for dominance.

Suddenly, Draco plunged one hand beneath the waistband of Harry’s trousers; the other was tangled in Harry’s soft black locks in an effort to keep their lips locked. Harry moaned into the blonde’s mouth, his eyes closed tight as Draco began to gently stoke his member. With every perfected movement of Draco’s hand, the breathing of the boy beneath him became shallower and his body squirmed and twisted under him.

Draco steadily pumped Harry’s cock, the pace increasing slowly, inevitably drawing Harry closer and closer to his climax. Every time Draco stroked the him, the Golden Boy would thrust up to meet the blonde’s touch in a desperate attempt to gain more contact. By this time, Harry’s body was covered in a layer of sweat. His unruly black locks were damp and falling in curtains partway over his emerald eyes.

Draco pulled away for a second, and Harry groaned in protest at the loss of sensation. His entire body was aching with the need to release, and he could do nothing about it.

“Draco please… I need y-you. GODS!” Most of Harry’s words were simply pre-climactic blabberings, but Draco barely took notice because something very special caught his attention; on the bedside table, illuminated by the feeble light of a flickering candle lay a rawhide glove looking oh-so-very innocent. The platinum blond pulled it on immediately (what do you know? It fit his hand perfectly).

Draco then ran one covered finger from Harry’s jaw down to his abdomen. After a couple moments of pleading on Harry’s part, Draco relented; he slipped his hand into Harry’s pants and slowly began to stroke him again. Harry all but screamed at this new sensation, his head was thrown back, his pupils dilated impossibly wide. His entire body trembled with the effort of arching to the touch.

Draco smirked. “You still haven’t told me where you were going when we had our little chance encounter.”

Harry didn’t respond, in fact, Draco couldn’t tell whether or not Harry had heard him at all though the haze of pleasure he was in. Draco stopped his ministrations for a moment.

“Please…”

“Tell me where you were going, Harry. Don’t make me punish you for being such an insolent little snake.”

Harry’s cheeks were flushed with heat and his eyes filled with lust, need and an underlying love for Draco. “I-“

“Make sure you give me a truthful answer.’ Draco pumped his shaft a couple times as though to emphasize his point.

“Fine. Look, I lost track of the time over the past week. I thought it was Wednesday. I was actually heading off to the Prefects’ bathroom.” If it were possible, Harry’s cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red.

“And what do you do at the Prefects’ bathroom on Wednesdays?” Draco already knew the answer to that particular question but a confession from Harry’s mouth was oddly appealing to his ego.

Harry murmured something indistinguishable. “What was that?” Draco pressed, his tone dripping with unmasked superiority.

“I-I sit there and watch you take a bubble bath while wanking off to explicit fantasies of being impaled on that hell-damned prick of yours.” Harry repeated, barely managing to block out the shame in his voice.

“That’s more like it,” Draco said with the hints of a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “And because you’ve been so obedient, I can only reward you by finally allowing you to live out your fantasies. Oh, how long I’ve waited to find out exactly how it feels to be buried in your tight little ass.”

A shrewd smile graced Harry’s features. “Can’t you please untie me, Draco? The bonds are really beginning to hurt my wrists.” Harry strained pathetically against the expertly tied knots in an attempt to make his point.

“I don’t see why not,” Draco replied as he tore off the glove and began to frantically work at Harry’s bindings; he was quite eager to take the boy of his dreams and his fingers worked nimbly, only slightly hampered by the hopeful thoughts that flooded though his mind.

Finally, Draco’s trembling fingers managed to release Harry’s hands. The coal-haired teen massaged them gently and then smiled in an overtly sweet fashion at the blond who was seated firmly on his chest. Before Draco knew what was happening, Harry had somehow managed to pin the blond beneath him and strip him of every last article of clothing that he had been wearing all in one swift movement.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing, Potter?”

Harry choose not to answer and instead proceeded to tie Draco’s hands together behind his back using the same length of rope that the blond has previously discarded. The rope was loose enough to be comfortable but constraining enough that the blond was now of no threat to Harry’s position of power. The emerald-eyed wizard lowered his head, his breath ghosting, warm and soft, over the shell of Draco’s ear, causing him to shudder involuntarily. “I lied,” he whispered; those two words set every last nerve ending in Draco’s body on edge. Any contact skin on skin with Harry seemed to burn pleasantly, and every last shred of heat in his body pooled directly in his groin.

“Whatever, Potter, you’re so hard for me that there’s no way you can deny being just as turned on as I am. And considering our current positioning, I would say that you’re in no hurry to up and leave this situation we seemed to have gotten ourselves all tangled up in.” Draco tried to gather the last fleeting strands of his courage which was hard considering the fact that he was helplessly pinned [that in itself was new] beneath the boy who lived to become a Hogwarts sex legend [Draco had often wondered how reliable the Hogwarts rumour mills were, but now he felt foolish for ever having doubted them].

“I don’t deny getting hard over you because that was indeed the truth. However, there was a slight change in facts relating to those fantasies I expressed as having earlier on. In fact, my desires follow an entirely separate path, one the leads undeniably to me fucking you senseless. So much so that by the time I’m done with you, you’ll end up giving Lord Voldemort a lap dance wearing nothing but Dobby’s old tea cosy.” Draco blanched considerably at that particular statement as he fought down a whimper.

But Draco wasn’t not about to give in that easily. If Harry thinks he’s going to be on top, he has another thing coming to him. “Sod off, Potter.” Draco replied, resorting to last name terms in his distress. “I have never been, nor will I ever be, the bottom of fuck session that I have had or will ever have and you, Harry, will not change that fact.”

“Oh, but I will,” Harry replied, his eyes glinting sadistically, drawing up a hint of doubt from within Draco’s outwardly reasonable, if a little agitated, composure. “I will break you, Draco, I will work you until I have you begging for it and by the end of the day, you’ll know exactly what you’ve been missing.”

Draco tried to concentrate on resisting the unbearable temptation that Harry’s words carried to his ears but such a feat was made hard considering the only other subject for his mind to focus on was the sensual feel of Harry’s warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck.

Suddenly, the warmth disappeared along with the pressure of Harry’s weight upon his own body. Draco flipped himself over on his back with a triumphant shout that died in his throat as he spotted the Golden Boy, all of the sudden he found himself wishing he had remained on his stomach. Harry was standing tall in the faintly lit room [which had an eerie dungeon-like quality to it] with what was unmistakably a leather whip in his hands.

Harry fingered the lash thoughtfully. Not many people knew it, but Harry had been trained to use just about every weapon known to the wizarding world and the whip just happened to be one of his favourites. The fact that it would be immeasurably useful against Draco was just an added bonus. The blond would be the first to be on the receiving end of the lash.

Harry twisted the whip and let its strike fall against the skin of his forearm. The rope wrapped the entire the length of his arm, twisting around it like an exceptionally clingy pet boa, and Harry let the handle fall from his grip. He promptly grabbed it with the hand of his ensnared arm and, with a well-practiced jerk of the handle, the rope slithered smoothly off his skin, leaving not even the slightest scratch.

Harry advanced on Draco, his eyes glued to the deliciously satisfying image of a squirming and grunting Draco, his platinum hair falling uncharacteristically in his eyes as he desperately tried to free himself. The raven-haired man lashed out with one precise flick of his wrist, the leather cord landed with a resounding snap mere millimetres away from Draco’s left side. The blond stopped squirming instantly, his eyes narrowed and every muscle in his body hardened, expectant of the blow.

They came in quick succession on either side of the bound teen. Draco’s eyes widened disbelievingly and then he groaned as his cock began to ache with need. The sight of Harry in nothing but tight black track pants, with mussed hair, eyes filled with lust, his body screaming of a dominant posture and a whip in hand was nearly too much for his straining erection.

The navy mattress dipped under Harry’s weight as he crawled onto the bed; his stance screamed predator, of that Draco was sure. It was a posture he himself had often worn. Truly trembling with a mixture of anticipation and adrenaline, Draco attempted to shift his body in a futile attempt at feeling Harry’s golden tan skin against his own.

Harry reacted before Draco had managed to move more than a scant inch or two; he crawled firmly between Draco’s unintentionally spread legs and placed one arm firmly below his pale porcelain neck. He wrapped the whip, which he still held into a shorter length, and lashed out. The hard tip of the cord struck Draco’s tense stomach muscles but left no mark and didn’t do much more than sting annoyingly.

Damn, he’s good with that whip, Draco thought, feeling slightly delicious and heated. Wonder what else he could do with that thing? As though he had read his mind, Harry lowered the length of the whip onto the sensitive skin of the blonde’s abdomen. “I’m going to break you, my Dragon,” Harry whispered, his voice husky with tightly restrained lust and passion.

The coarse leather began to slither airily against Draco’s skin, causing the boy to moan, his mouth parting ever so slightly as he lost himself in the sensation. Somehow after many moments of disillusioned panting, Draco managed to find his voice.

‘Don’t you know you should never tickle a sleeping dragon? You might just wake it up.” His voice came out in a hoarse growl, one that drew a hiss from the boy atop him.

“I think this little dragon is already quite awake,” Harry murmured. Draco opened his mouth in indignation but whatever offended remark he had intended to make fled from his mind as Harry released the whip and grabbed his hard and aching cock pointedly. Lightning spread from his groin and up through his body, the intensity doubling with every slow, enticing stroke of Harry’s hand.

“Fuck, Harry-”

“So tell me, Draco, do you want me yet? Are you willing to beg yet?”

“I do want you.”

Harry pumped him harder and lowered his mouth to the youth’s navel, slipping his tongue in with a rhythm that matched his hand. Draco whimpered; a sound so faint Harry barely caught it over his own choppy breathing. “But I don’t beg, I’m a Malfoy and we Malfoys have a nasty tendency of simply taking what we want.”

“I can change that… Draco,” Harry’s voice was ethereal, saintly almost and oh-so compelling to Draco’s ears. Why did my name sound so sweet and angelic on his tongue? Why did it make me feel a million times more important? Why did it make me feel at all?

Harry pressed his body down upon Draco’s and his lips descended on Draco’s swollen pink lips, claiming them as his own. One hand softly caressed velvety smooth platinum tresses as the other one wandered aimlessly over Draco’s body. Harry ground his hips down against the blonde’s and their erections met through a single layer of cloth. The tender touches, languid kisses and thoughtful, not to mention practiced, hip movements sent Draco spiralling into rivets of pleasure.

Then Harry shifted again, his head ducking between Draco’s thighs, his calloused hands bearing down on the blonde’s hips. He blew faintly on the tip of the weeping erection. His tongue darted out to lick the pre-come that had collected and then ran the entire length of Draco’s penis at a pace so tauntingly slow that the boy beneath him began to beg.

“Please, Harry… please.”

Undeterred, Harry dragged his velvety hot tongue over the head a couple times before he slowly took the organ into his mouth, inch by inch. Harry took him until he was seriously close to agitating his gag reflex then he lazily began to bob his head, grazing his teeth along the length and humming in his throat to add sensation.

The vibrations threw Draco into a whole new world of satisfaction and the entire focus of his mind seemed to revolve around the growing pleasure that was building along his spine. Harry began to suck, his motions feathery light and torturous, but his hands prevented Draco from bucking into the motion.

Suddenly, the sensation of Harry’s hot silky mouth and oh-so-talented tongue disappeared and Draco’s eyes shot open in dismay. He was so damn close and to be left as such was devastating.

“So are you liking things under me yet?” Harry’s cheeks were flushed, but it was nothing compared to the scarlet blush that coloured Draco’s pale complexion. The blonde’s breathing was ragged and shallow but, even so, Draco managed to force out a few choice words.

“My prick- your ass, now,” he gasped trying to clear his chaotic mind. “That’s my pleasure.” It was a miracle that he even managed to form a proper sentence in his state.

“We’ll see about that.” Harry slowly licked one finger up and down, pushing it into his mouth and pausing to suck on it suggestively. Draco withered helplessly, trying to rid himself of his bonds. But the blonde’s movements stilled as Harry placed another molten kiss on his bruised and swollen lips, his tongue slipped past parted lips to stroke Draco’s own tongue lovingly.

Draco melted into the tenderness of Harry’s lips upon his own and the wonderfully comforting weight of the teen atop of him. His body relaxed and his eyes closed, and Draco finally allowed himself to simply melt against the warmth of Harry’s presence. But, not a moment, later his entire body tensed instantly as Harry gently rimmed one finger around his entrance.

The blond tried to close his legs in a pathetic attempt to maintain his long lost dominance, but he found that Harry had yet again wedged his own legs between them in an effort to prevent exactly what Draco was trying to do.

“Damn you, Potter. I simply refuse to submit to you so get your poncy ass back in hell and– ah, fuck.” His voice rose to a high-pitched whisper as Harry pushed one slick finger gently past the clenched ring of muscle and into his passage.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he said in quick succession as his entire being became instantaneously focussed around that one finger. It just felt so good, and it didn’t hurt as much as he had initially anticipated [the masochist part of him sulked]. Harry began to move his finger in and out of the blonde’s tightly clenched hole.

“Relax, Dray,” he whispered. “Stop fighting it. You’re mine now.” Draco nodded submissively, doing anything it took to keep the sensation going.

Harry tenderly added a second finger and saw Draco wince with a slight sign of discomfort, but he didn’t stop for it was clear exactly how much the Slytherin was enjoying it; his cock was hard and was digging into Harry’s thigh harder and harder as Draco began to pant and moan. Harry gently scissored the blonde’s opening before adding one more finger.

Draco’s back arched right off the mattress, and he keened in ecstasy, his head thrown back splaying his golden hair against the navy blue silken pillow.

“Please...” he panted. “I need you, Harry. I want you… in me.” Draco had been close to breaking down and giving in to Harry this entire session but never more so then now as his body danced on the edge of his orgasm and Harry’s fingers moved in him, edging his tortured body on. Far from caring, he realized that the only thing he wanted more than the fluid movements of Harry’s fingers deep within his own body was the sensation of being impaled on the gorgeous green-eyed angel that was currently providing him with such unimaginably erotic and heightened pleasure.

But, within the instant, he was hollow and empty once more. His eyes flew open, a lust-ridden protest already weighing down his tongue but, as he was about to voice his outrage, he saw that Harry had simply backed off in order to remove his sinfully obstructive pants. Draco closed his mouth and settled for eyeing the boy in all his glory in a manner that could be described as containing something between hunger and appreciation. A moan of pure yearning slipped past his barely parted lips, but it died in his throat as emerald eyes met his own clouded silver orbs.

Harry climbed back onto the bed and slowly lifted Draco’s hips a couple inches off the mattress as he positioned himself at the blonde’s entrance. He slowly pushed in past the tight ring of muscle and Draco’s eyes tightened shut against the pain, his mouth open in a silent gasp.

Harry groaned with satisfaction as Draco’s molten heat surrounded him inch by inch until he was entirely sheathed in the youth beneath him. Draco squirmed uncomfortably, trying to ease away the discomforting pain. The Gryffindor, sensing Draco’s unease, began to move at a halting pace in attempt to relieve the boy beneath him of his discomfort.

“Stop being so damn delicate!” Draco cried as he felt his climax edging closer with every moment that passed with Harry buried deep inside him. Harry didn’t need much more in the ways of prompting. He drew out almost entirely and thrust back in with tripled force, ripping a strangled and stifled cry from the blonde’s throat. After a couple strokes, his constant change in angling was rewarded as the sweat slicked form beneath him arched violently off the mattress as Draco desperately tried to maintain the flickering pressure on his prostate. Harry complied and aimed his cock so that he managed to hit the bundle of nerve ending with every thrust.

Draco had somehow managed to free his hands, and he proceeded to tangle one in the silken navy sheets underneath them and another in Harry’s dampened black tresses. Moaning and keening with each calculated, if increasing, wild thrust of Harry’s hips, he brought Harry’s head down and drew the Gryffindor into a heated kiss while their eyes locked for a few short moments.

As he repeatedly pounded into the blonde’s incredibly tight sheath, Harry felt his own climax building and the pleasure began to course through his veins. It just felt so good to be buried deep in the platinum angel that he had, not-so-recently, taken to stalking. “Don’t you love being dominated, my Dragon? Don’t you loving feeling so complete?”

Draco nodded in answer as he incoherently pleaded with Harry. Catching on to the blonde’s intentions, Harry wrapped one hand around the youth’s shaft and began to jerk in time with each stroke. A few short moments later, brilliant stars erupted before Draco’s eyes as he came hard, coating both of their stomachs in his seed.

“HARRY!” With the shout resounding in his ears and Draco’s muscles clenching reflexively upon his length Harry too came, spilling his seed deep within the gorgeous blond. “DRACO!”

Harry was careful to pull out of Draco gently, but that was all the care he could manage before he promptly collapsed on top of Draco. It took both boys a couple moments to regain their composure, and Harry came back to reality first. He muttered a quick cleansing spell on the both of them to ensure a tad more comfort and shifted into a more comfortable position next to the blond.

“Quite the tame little dragon you are,” Harry murmured, his tone lovingly arrogant.

“I’ll have you know I am anything but tame. And besides, I will, under no circumstance, ever admit to submitting to you, Potter,” The scowl that marred his features was easily negated when taken with the tousled hair, flushed cheeks and dotted bite marks that was now the image of Draco Malfoy.

“Hmm, no, I suppose not,” Harry answered thoughtfully. “You were quite clearly overpowered by my undeniably dominant nature. You never stood a chance.”

“Harry James Potter, shut up this very instant.” Draco was deeply disgruntled and just a wee bit embarrassed at his own submissive performance of the night.

“Draco Andreios Malfoy, don’t you dare deny what you know to be the truth,” Harry replied, his voice so very nonchalant despite the power of his statement. So much so that Draco doubted he had heard him right, but the mischievous look in Harry’s emerald eyes told him that the Golden Boy had, in fact, used his full name.

“How did you-”

“It’s a wonder, the things you can learn when you hang about in the Slytherin common room every so often.”

“How on earth did you manage to get yourself into the Slytherin common room?” Draco asked, his indignant tone ruined by the fact that he was playing with a loose strand of raven hair.

“Well…” Harry drew the blond closer to him and drew a corner of the covers over their entangled form. “If you must know…”

Harry paused for a moment and Draco felt it best to interrupt. “You know what, I think I’d rather not know actually.” Draco snuggled closer to Harry’s form and buried his face against Harry’s neck.

Harry smiled as he eased one arm beneath his own head and tangled his remaining hand in Draco’s silken platinum hair. The blond sighed contentedly and let himself drift to sleep in the protective embrace of Harry who was lazily running a hand through his hair with soothing rhythm. The lights dimmed of their own accord, settling the mood. Listening to the soft even breathing of the blond Harry too fell asleep, his free arm wrapped securely around Draco.


AN: Just review or flame. Doesn't matter really. Reviews are better though. Oh and I was thinking of writing a sequel, something either on the Quidditch Pitch or perhaps the Slytherin Dorms. Tell me what you guys think.

Edit [26.06.06]: Now officially betaed and therefore worthy of the wonderful world of slashiness, at least in a grammatical sense.

Edit2: Format error. My html incapabilities. Fixed now though.

Just want to say that I've written the sequel but old fashion pen on paper cause I prefer it. So when I get it typed up I'll post it, though it might be broken up into smaller parts cause it's kind of long.

- Incessant_Darkness