The Heat Won't Quit

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.


The Heat Won’t Quit…..by Samayel


Harry gathered his cloak and map. He would go to the baths again tonight, just as he did most every night. It hurt even to think of it, but he did it anyway, as if by rote memory, an act so often practiced that it became near instinct.

He looked back at the weeks that had passed since the start of school, as he often did now, and sat on the bed with a sigh…and a pained wince.

His arse was sore, and not without justification. Not that that would stop him from doing whatever Draco wished, and Draco wished for a lot. Shamefully, Harry was always eager to give.

Draco could be gentle, sometimes, but in the heat of the moment, Harry scarcely cared whether he was or wasn’t. What made him sick was the knowledge that he could be brought to peaks of sexual pleasure so easily by someone who barely seemed to care for him. He knew that he ranked somewhat better than ‘treasured pet’ in Draco’s eyes, and if he wanted to enjoy the perks that came with that status, he had to lower his expectations and accept what Draco was willing to offer.

He’d learned his lesson only a few weeks ago, and the sting of it was a bitter barb still buried deep in heart.

Draco had kept the pace of progress in their nocturnal activities as high as ever, bring something new into play every few days. Every change was welcomed by Harry, who was just glad that his lapse into romanticism had been politely ignored, and that Malfoy had acknowledged that some small show of affection now and then made things easier for Harry.

The most specific change came first to mind. Harry had quickly fallen in love with the entire concept of oral sex, and Draco occasionally initiated it, or reciprocated deftly when Harry initiated it. That part hadn’t changed at all, save for Harry developing greater skill as the days ticked by.

The real change was what Draco did while giving Harry head. Although he never allowed Harry to do the same to him, Draco routinely massaged Harry’s virgin hole with spit slicked fingers, rubbing gently and firmly in ways that left Harry panting and gasping for immediate release.

Draco finally, inevitably, took it a step further, and during a long and teasing session that Harry thought would end with Draco finally attending to Harry’s twitching cock, Draco ducked his head between Harry’s legs and swiped his tongue along just the rim of Harry’s arsehole.

This act shocked Harry completely, both because of its inherently taboo nature, and because of what it suggested regarding Draco’s wants.

Once it was established that Harry had no resistance to the notion, Draco simply pushed Harry’s knees back, exposing his bum completely, and dove to work with tongue and fingers, ultimately causing Harry to orgasm quite spontaneously onto his own stomach, while Draco made a slick and spit soaked mess of Harry’s backside.

It had been the fingers that had eroded Harry’s restraint. When, after considerable preparation, the third finger had squeezed in, and Draco had twisted his hand carefully, aiming for a very specific place, Harry had shamelessly cried out in pleasure, unwittingly telling Draco that he’d found precisely what he was working toward.

After that, it was only a matter of time before Harry spattered himself with come, and collapsed into a limp and inchoate wreck right there on the tiled floor. Draco had promptly knelt above him and relieved his own erection via masturbation, dispassionately aiming his come, quite suggestively, between Harry’s inner thighs, letting it drip and mingle with the saliva that already drenched Harry’s backside.

That was the moment that Harry had first known that Draco was ultimately going to wind up fucking him. And he knew it…because he wanted Draco to do it. This had been the endgame, and Draco would have what he wanted, because he’d made Harry desperate to give it to him.

Harry could have walked away. That was what made it a tragedy. At every step along the way, he could have turned his back or forced Draco’s hand. There wasn’t one act he’d been forced into, it had all been of Harry’s choosing. Even the last of it, no matter how much it shamed him to admit it.

There shouldn’t have been ANY shame in what he was doing. For all that he and Draco had done together, they should have been lovers. There should have been some shred of real intimacy between them. Harry knew full well that the sex should have been accompanied by the things that marked a healthy, normal relationship. He knew all this, and still hadn’t fought to make those things a part of what took place between him and Draco.

Whatever shame he may have felt, it simply hadn’t been enough to overcome his growing desire for Draco. Whatever it took, he was willing to try, if it gave him hope of opening up Draco’s heart just a little more. That was what led him here, to this state of affairs, in pursuit of a stupid teenage dream that couldn’t really exist.

The baths had been getting warmer as the weather cooled, adding a pleasant steaminess to the Prefect’s baths in fall. Harry always came early now, and usually tried to clean himself well before Draco got there. In light of what he’d been letting Draco do, his hygiene mattered more than ever, and Draco’s coyly pleased comments had let him know that the effort was appreciated.

It was getting inexorably closer, the act he expected from Draco any day, and his own desire for it had reached a fever pitch. Draco manipulated him with fingers and tongue each night, always leaving Harry thoroughly sated, but strangely desperate for more.

Harry had taken to wanking in his dorm shower in the mornings, his own fingers working rather ineffectually to mimic Draco’s adept caresses. It was all he thought about. Soon, blessedly soon, Draco would finally take the last step, and just maybe let his guard down and acknowledge Harry as more than a convenience.

That was as intimate as two people could get, right? Surely Draco would stop refusing to kiss him once they’d really done it. Anything would be worth such a triumph. Anything.

Draco arrived a few minutes late to find Harry, naked, clean and sleek, drying himself slowly by the bench. The smile that crossed his lips looked so genuine. Harry knew full well that Draco liked what he saw.

Harry wasn’t blind outside of the baths, either. Draco noticed him regularly, and never scowled at him anymore. Best of all, rumor had reached Harry that Slytherin was in a state of confusion over Draco’s behavior the last few weeks.

Draco hadn’t touched another person in weeks. His classmates had decided he was depressed, rendered impotent by some curse, or undergoing some weird spiritual transformation. The most debauched student in the history of Slytherin had been chaste as a nun for weeks, and no one knew why. Except Harry.

He’d never discussed it, but he knew that tidbit of information was important. Even if Draco acted blasé about things, there were underlying feelings at work that Draco would only share when he was ready.

Draco peeled away his coat and clothes, making idle chat with Harry as if they weren’t about to engage in acts that would shock half the school into histrionics. Harry smiled and stood up from the bench, faking a yawn that gave him an excuse to stretch widely and deliberately show off his naked body. Draco graced him with a look that almost berated him for doing anything so obvious, but still managed to mingle attraction with disdain.

It was amazing how much mileage Draco could get from single look, and Harry wished he could pick up that knack. He settled for following Draco to the other side of the baths, but not without adding a certain lazy grace to his strut.

Harry let his eyes smolder, blatantly advertising his want, very deliberately provoking a reaction from Draco, which was hard to deny, given the speed with which blood rushed to Draco’s cock. Draco’s look shifted from vaguely attracted disdain to one of aroused interest, and Harry afforded himself a little congratulations for making an impression.

Draco was sitting at the edge of the bath when Harry walked two steps down into it, only inches from Draco, leaving his half hard cock dangling less than a foot from Draco’s mouth. This time, Harry arched a single eyebrow in subtle invitation, and Draco smiled approvingly. Then he leaned forward, and gave Harry a reason to gasp with unfeigned ecstasy as he put his vast skills to work on Harry’s rapidly stiffening cock.

Ruthless fingers slithered along Harry’s thighs, restlessly working their way toward their usual target. Harry savored every stroke and caress, knowing perfectly well where they were leading, and hoping hungrily for just a little more this time.

He wasn’t disappointed. Draco finally paused in his ministrations and guided Harry to his knees on the edge of the baths. Draco was behind him, comfortable on the steps, on partly submerged in warm water. In seconds, a familiar and devilish tongue was performing while subtle hands caressed Harry oh so teasingly.

It was the way Draco touched him, firmly, yet without disrespect, sensually, but with a hint of power. Harry felt like an ocean ship the was being gently steered, never fought for control, and Draco’s real gift lay in his ability to move Harry to offer more of his own volition.

Fingers and tongue took turns penetrating Harry deeper than ever before, while Harry whimpered and groaned with need in front of Draco. Harry reached beneath himself, intending to stroke his rigid cock to relief, when Draco’s hand reached his own and stopped it, pushing it back to its original position, supporting Harry as he knelt on all fours at the edge of the bath.

Water splashed behind Harry and he looked back to see Draco standing up behind him, looking at Harry almost reverently, yet tinged with a dark and powerful lust that fluttered just beneath the surface of Draco’s famous self control.

Draco’s look was a question, and Harry’s answer was to shift himself only slightly, arching his back and offering himself without a word.

Harry felt it against him almost immediately, nudging at his saliva soaked entrance, but a week of subtle fingers and aching desire had built up his ability to cope with such an invasion.

Draco was supremely gentle, stroking Harry’s back in relative silence, save for a few whispered words of approval and admiration that felt like loud accolades to Harry, who had starved for approval his entire lifetime, and responded so easily to it now.

Harry pushed back gently, and felt himself flower outward onto the erect cock behind him. They rocked together, bringing just the head of Draco’s cock in and out of Harry’s hungry and willing body, only to take it just a measure further each time.

Minutes may have passed, or they could have been hours, Harry could no longer tell, completely absorbed in an act of complete surrender, praying that Draco wouldn’t hurt him at a moment like this.

Draco didn’t. He moved with the patience of a saint, teasing his way into Harry’s body with no more than his own spit as lubricant, and never made Harry feel anything crueler than the desire for more. In time, his groin was pressed hot and tight against Harry’s backside, Draco’s balls brushing against the back of Harry’s.

Every so often, sheathed completely in Harry’s body, Draco would shift a little, applying pressure that made Harry moan weakly, almost whining with need, then slowly begin to withdraw, but never by more than an inch before he slid in slowly again.

The pace was brutally slow, and torturous for Harry, who had never experienced such a feeling of fullness, or such an intimate connection to another person, in his entire life, and he had no idea how to cope with it. There was something he wanted so very badly, but he simply didn’t know what it was.

Draco’s hands were comfortable on Harry’s hips, and they made Harry feel strangely secure, as though he was in the care of someone who, if need be, would hold him safe and close, never letting him fall to harm.

Draco’s rocking became more pronounced, his grip tightened, and Harry became aware of the delicate burn of friction inside him, as the place that only fingers had stretched and stroked before was now wrapped firmly around the thrusting thickness of Draco’s cock. With every brief stroke, Harry would gasp, and try to make sense of the overwhelming sensations that were eroding his rather fragile self control so quickly.

Draco moved with more confidence, and Harry felt Draco stand a little, making each stroke of his cock into Harry come from a higher angle. A second later, Harry was a trembling mass, supported largely by Draco’s efforts to hold his waist, and his own cock bobbed and wept, almost tingling at the base each time Draco drove into him.

Draco raised the pace again a mere minute later, battering that wonderful spot inside Harry with amazing precision. Harry had opened himself utterly, reducing the friction, craving further faster contact between Draco’s cock and the place inside that needed its attention. Little lights burst in Harry’s vision, and he almost slipped into a happy, numb, trance-like state, only aware of the pleasure that thrummed through his body in waves, until a mounting and uncontrollable urge to come pulled him sharply back to reality.

Harry panted out cries in delirium, loving the way that, with each spurt of his own orgasm, his body clenched tight around Draco’s cock, adding a new sensation into the mix, since Draco’s pace didn’t slow in the slightest until well after Harry had finished coming.

It was then that Draco paused, and pulled Harry up onto his knees, resting on Draco’s lap, still impaled on the prong of Draco’s erection. Draco had an arm wrapped firmly around his chest, and rocked slowly, moving both their bodies to the same rhythm. His cock throbbed inside Harry, and Harry could have sworn he felt the pulse of Draco’s heartbeat between his thighs.

Draco’s free hand moved to Harry’s flagging, happily spent cock, and gently massaged it life again. The friction inside him was bordering on uncomfortable, but Harry was past the point of caring, and he simply lolled his head onto Draco’s shoulder, surrendering himself completely to the man that had just taken his virginity, and given him the paramount orgasm of his life so far.

Harry hung on the border between repletion and ecstasy longer than he could clearly recall, and the way Draco touched him was both reverent and passionate. Draco’s breath hissed against Harry’s shoulder, and he was scarcely cognizant of the tension building in the man behind him.

A minute later, Harry became aware that Draco’s manipulation of his cock had become frenetic and clumsy. Draco bit down at the base of Harry’s collarbone, sucking hard at the tender flesh there, stifling a groan as he came deep and hard inside Harry’s body.

Harry placed his own hand around Draco’s, and guided its action around his own cock, savoring the knowledge that he’d just brought a lover to orgasm in the most complete and final of ways.

With his steady hand to guide Draco’s own, he brought himself to orgasm a minute later, this time far more conscious of the oddly uncomfortable and yet thrilling way his body cinched tightly around the intruding member lodged deep inside of him as he came. His second orgasm was almost painful, and he shuddered and bit his own lip to hold back cries while hot fluid rolled down his and Draco’s joined hands.

Draco’s head rested against Harry’s back, and sharp puffs of breath felt cool and good against Harry’s heated and sweat slick skin. They remained motionless, joined together still, for almost a minute.

Then Draco broke the spell between them with a single kiss at the center of Harry’s back, and Harry shuddered with pleasure at the hint of affection and intimacy that was offered him. Then Draco awkwardly moved Harry from his lap, withdrawing his spent and softening cock from Harry slowly, voicing only a tiny ‘ah’ as the sensitive head slid free of Harry’s grasp.

Harry relaxed on the tiles beside the bath, still too tired and giddy to act coherently, not trusting himself to speak clearly. He settled for a wide and honest smile of sated pleasure, hoping Draco would notice the unspoken compliment inherent in it.

Draco picked up his wand, uttered a few Cleaning Charms, and slid into the bath with a lazy sigh.

Slightly disappointed, but not entirely surprised, Harry slid into the bath for the second time, feeling a bit more forward in the aftermath of this latest and most remarkable step in his ’relationship’ with Draco. That same overconfidence was what ultimately brought things to head.

Brimming with satisfaction and gratitude, Harry managed to get through only a couple of minutes of bathing next to Draco’s silence, before slipping up behind Draco and enfolding him in a hug. Before Harry could express a word of his feelings, Draco’s iciest tone stopped him cold.

“What, exactly, do you fucking think you’re doing?” Draco’s back was tensed in sharp contrast to the softness of Harry’s embrace, and Harry pulled away slowly, more than a little stunned by Draco’s angrily hissed comment.

“I…I just thought…’ Harry fumbled for words, flushing crimson with humiliation.

“I beg to differ. I’m pretty sure thought wasn’t involved, because I thought I made it clear that this insipid Hufflepuff bullshit is off the menu. Was I unclear?”

“No…no, but…” Harry bit back tears that were stinging in the corners of his eyes. Those would only make this disaster worse.

“But nothing, Potter! You were doing great…just don’t fuck with a good thing until it’s broken, that’s all I ask. You like this, don’t you?” Draco still hadn’t even turned to look at him.

“Yeah…I do…I just…”

“Are we not having a good time? I thought this was going swimmingly, but I could be wrong. I’m asking myself if I was wrong about your ability to handle this. I HAD some confidence in you, which was a first…was I mistaken?”

Panicky desperation and disappointment gave way to a complete surrender. His need for Draco’s approval would have been less, if it hadn’t been for the fresh and mind boggling experience at the forefront of Harry’s mind. His heart sank in his chest, and he sighed softly, then answered with a coolness that could have matched Draco’s own, even if his heart was breaking while he did it.

“No. You weren’t. I’m fine. Forget about it.” The words felt heavy, like he was trying to drop boulders from his tongue, but he got them out, and Draco’s beautiful back appeared to relax. Draco scrubbed shampoo from his hair while he answered in a warmer tone.

“Good. Keep a grip on yourself. You were much too good tonight to spoil the whole thing with all that nonsense. I mean really, you were fucking incredible, and I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself that much. It’s not flattery to say it, but you’re a natural, Harry. If I’d the faintest idea you were that good, I’d have been winging invitations your way since fifth year. Please don’t let me down, alright?”

“Right. No worries.” Even if his voice was level, Harry still had to busy himself washing, careful to make sure any signs of the tears burning on his cheeks were erased.

So calm. How friendly he’d made that sound…that betrayal of anything decent and healthy that could exist between two people. And he’d made Harry feel the burden of guilt, as if being sane enough to want something more than empty sex was a hostile act. Harry had learned his lesson, and the pain of it hadn’t diminished in the weeks since.

He always went back. To a lover that did not love. Hungry for kisses and always starved. Empty except for the one way in which Draco filled him, and that was done expertly and well.

Draco had sensed the shift in his mood, and brought occasional gifts, small things that seemed to show some hint of affection without forcing him to actually show it. They were nice after a fashion, but they weren’t anything that Harry wanted. He took them just to save face, feigning pleasure at the gestures.

Draco had also given Harry a phial of slick lubricant that made their meetings much easier, and allowed them much greater flexibility with regard to positions and speed. As far as the sex was concerned, it only got better as Harry adapted to it, discovering that with practice he could intensify his own pleasure far beyond that of their beginnings. It wasn’t enough.

So many positions, so many pleasures, and so many veiled desires that couldn’t even be spoken without risking the collapse of their little house of cards. There was one thing they had never done, one taboo they never shattered.

Draco never bottomed. His backside was inviolate, and remained untouched, a single mystery unresolved in a relationship built on the crossing of boundaries. Like a symbol of his inability to commit more than his body to Harry, his staunch and silent refusal to bottom, or even be rimmed or fingered, stood like a bulwark between them.

And Harry…Harry was sick of it. The implied inequality between them, the unfulfilled desires he bore within himself daily, and the hypocrisy of a sexual partner who would cheerfully break down Harry’s every barrier, but never dared to breach his own.

But he always went back. Harry picked up his cloak and map and pocketed his wand. He would go back like he did every night, and Draco would please his body, lavishing every sensual kindness upon him, and make him come, savagely, wildly and well, begging for more with every panted breath.

The nights would be cold in his room when he was alone, and he could hate himself then, but for an hour or two, this sickening heat would be upon him, and it simply wouldn’t quit, even while his heart railed against him as walked down the halls in silence.

TBC!!!