Working It

Working It

Belated birthday gift fic for utteramusement (on LJ).
*** Mega big thanks to rdwind and bonfoi for the beta!

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It started, as many self conscience obsessions often do, with a harmless comment. An old set of robes had clasps that pulled the fabric tightly over Draco’s chest when fastened. He didn’t really notice, of course, until his father made that fateful statement.

“Those robes are getting too tight, have a tailor take them out.”

Draco was a growing man, and by no means was his father calling him fat, mind, but for some reason he became fixated on the idea that he was, Merlin forbid, getting chubby. He got into the habit of patting his stomach while looking in the mirror, keeping a critical eye out for any rippling that occurred.

He tried a diet. He had the house elves portion out his food and make sure it was mostly composed of whole grains and vegetables. And it went well. Really well. For about a day. Honestly, how could anyone be expected to resist the sweet pastries and eclairs that called to him from kitchen in a fragrant song as beautiful and dangerous as a siren’s?

Okay, so diets were out, but that was okay because Draco just needed to live a more active life. He started to fly more, making rounds around the Manor a few times a day. He wove through trees and practiced turns. He alternated quick bursts of speed with skillfully smooth maneuvers, quite fantastically if he might say so himself. It got him a bit winded, sometimes, but mostly it was just boring. Where was the fun in flying when no one except house elves watched his brilliance? Never the less, he thought he might be onto something with the active lifestyle idea, and kept the concept in the back of his mind.

Then one late night in the kitchen when he was eating the devilish eclairs of tasty evil, an idea struck Draco. He’d heard that after Pansy had her baby, she hired a personal trainer to help her get back into shape. That’s all he needed, he thought, with a slap to the belly.

***


“Is this some sort of sick joke courtesy of the universe?” Draco snarled.

Standing on the second to last step in his stairwell, he was looking down at Harry Bloody Potter. Draco had asked the house elves to owl the same agency that Pansy had used, demanding that the best physical instruction trainer be sent immediately. And didn’t it just figure that Potter would pop out of his fireplace twenty minutes later, wearing the company emblem on his indecently tight shirt?

“Look, I was supposed to be off today, so if you want me to go....” Potter said, sounding completely unfazed, as if he popped out of his nemesis’ fireplaces on a regular basis. He held a clipboard under one arm while the other fidgeted with what looked like a muggle pin in a nervous gesture, the only outward sign of possible discomfort. Draco stood there, looking down his nose at Potter.

“Maybe I should just go,” Potter said, narrowing his eyes.

Draco’s only outward reaction was a small jutting of his chin and a raised eyebrow. Inside his mind he was pondering the dilemma of hiring Potter. On the one hand, if he agreed, then he would be exposing weakness to the brunette. Draco’s hand went to drum his fingers on his stomach as he made a conscious effort not to frown in thought. On the other hand, no one had ever been as motivational to him as Potter.

Draco’s eyes scanned the firm, fit body that stood in front of him. Everything about Potter was tight and defined, the hints of muscles under his black shirt danced playfully with every move.

“Fine,” he said with an indifferent shrug. “What’s the plan then?”

Potter’s jaw muscles jumped as he raised the clipboard and jotted something down. There was a small feeling of satisfaction from that hidden reaction. The realization that Potter would be under him, as an employee, made a smirk stretch across his face.

“What did you have in mind when you contacted the company?”

Draco turned his focus away for a brief moment, trying to think of a way to phrase his delicate situation. In the end he gave up and shrugged. Let Potter figure it out if he was such a professional.

“Fine, I’ll let you think about it,” Potter said, his eyebrows drawn down. “We’re not starting today anyway.”

“And why’s that?”

“I was suppose to be off today, and I damn well am going to spend the rest of the day relaxing.”

Draco stretched out his spine to emphasize his height. “ I’m sure your boss will love to hear about this.”

Frustratingly, Potter rolled his eyes. “I doubt Ron will care.”

“Ron? As in Weasel?” Draco’s voice definitely didn’t crack like a prepubescent teen just then. He glared at Potter as if daring him to comment.

“Look, Malfoy,” Potter said and sighed, sounding as if it came straight from a weary soul. “I’m willing to work for you if you agree to at least be cordial.”

Draco let a tense moment pass before giving him a curt nod.

“Wonderful,” Potter said in a monotone. “I’ll be back tomorrow and we can go from there.

Silently, as Draco watched Potter leave he patted his stomach and frowned. This was going to be interesting.

***


A loud pounding had Draco jerking upright in bed. It took a moment of blinking away sleep to realize the pounding was actually coming from his bedroom door. He groaned loudly as he began to untangle himself from white sheets.

“Malfoy, open up!” Potter’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door, practically growling like a feral animal.

Draco ignored him and carefully began to wrap his sheet around his waist in a way that covered his morning erection. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick tempus charm, which kindly informed him it was eight in the morning.

“Draco!” Potter shouted, the name sounding almost the same as it had in the blonde’s dream moments before. A cold surge of annoyance pushed into Draco’s chest as he tightened his hold on the sheet. He’d thought he was done with those dreams.

Channeling all his recent cause for annoyance into an icy glare, Draco opened his door. Potter stared stupidly, green eyes traveling down his pale chest. Draco fought the tightening in his arm muscles that wanted to tug up the sheet shyly. Worse of all was the way his erection jumped when Potter’s tongue ran across his bottom lip in a seemingly nervous gesture. His cock wanted that tongue to do that somewhere else.

“What,” he growled, “in all the Heavens are you doing smashing my door in so early in the morning?”

Potter’s gaze snapped up at the beginning of Draco’s words and settled to stare just to the left of his head, avoiding the icy glare Draco was still sending him.

“Did you forget already that you hired me?” Potter said, his voice just a bit higher in pitch than it usually was. Draco narrowed his eyes further. “Day one of your workouts, get dressed and meet me out front.”

“Potter,” Draco said coolly, just as the brunette was turning. Potter paused and looked expectantly towards him. “No more mornings after this.”

“Fine. And what time would be better for you, sleeping beauty?”

“Anytime after noon,” Draco said in a superior tone that would remind Potter just who worked for whom. He waved him away in a dismissive gesture and shut the door.

One intense wank and a rush to get dressed into some casual robes later and Draco was ready.

He walked outside to the sight of Potter stretching his arms above his head. Draco noted that he was – again – wearing an indecently tight shirt and what looked to be some sort of informal gray slacks. He watched as the chest muscles jumped elegantly under that black fabric, like the shifting muscles of a tiger prancing gracefully. He tore his eyes away before Potter noticed.

“Alright, I’m here. Now what?”

The trainer dropped his arms and frowned. “Usually I’d suggest starting with a jog, get the blood pumping –”

“I don’t jog,” Draco interrupted, tilting his chin up.

“I thought as much,” Potter said dryly. “Which is why I guessed you’d be more open to flying.”

Draco followed the brunette's sweeping hand as he gestured to the two brooms leaning against the outside wall of the Manor. He noticed, with some irritation, they were both his brooms.

“The house elves brought them out for me, hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Draco said, selecting what he knew to be the faster of the two. Potter mounted the other and without another word pushed up. Draco wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of riding so early in the morning – the air was too crisp and cool considering his body still held the warmth of his bed – but with a pat to his stomach he followed Potter into the air.

It was slow at first. He was instructed to stay close and mimic potter’s movement – which he did. They swooped low and pulled up at a leisurely pace, made large circles in the air, zigzagged across the grounds. The pace was sluggish and Draco couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eyes as Potter dipped low again and again, his eyes scanning the details of the Malfoy gardens. He could tell the brunette was enjoying himself, at one point even reaching out to graze his tan fingers against the petals of a yellow rose.

Draco knew the pace was about to change when Potter looked mischievously over his shoulder. That was all the warning he got before the trainer took off, spinning around almost mockingly before surging upwards. Fighting the smile that almost escaped his lips, Draco drew in his brows determinedly before racing after him.

Just as he remembered, Potter was fast, skilled, and just so bloody brilliant on a broom it wasn’t fair. The speed difference of the brooms didn’t seem to make a difference as Draco tried with all his might just to keep up with the way Potter was dashing through the air. He turned and spun with beauty and grace, leaving Draco feeling almost awkward and clumsy.

Potter didn’t relent, his pace constant and fast in the air as Draco cased after him. Every muscle started to tremble under the various strains he was putting his body through, his breath coming in gasps. His only comfort came on the few times he saw Potter’s face enough to see he was in a similar situation.

It was when Potter was leading him over a stretch of the northern Malfoy property that he saw his perfect opportunity. He dove down, making sure to stay out of sight of Potter and speed to match his speed. He could see the confusion in Potter’s body language as he slightly turned his head, doubtlessly searching for Draco.

It was all the distraction Draco needed before he leaned forward, tensing his muscles and putting as much power into a burst of speed as he could muster. He laughed when he heard Potter’s undignified cry of surprise.

Before Draco could stop himself he was slowing, turning to Potter and grinning like a loon, the brunette wearing an equally goofy expression. To remedy said situation, Draco quickly formed his grin into a cold smirk and taunted through a breathless exhaustion, “You call that flying?”

Potter’s grin, if possible, widened and his eyes shone in a way that caused something warm to trickle into Draco’s gut. In contrast, suddenly a vice seemed to grip his heart. He turned his broom quickly away and straightened his shoulders, mentally shaking away any unwanted feelings that began to sprout like seedlings under the surface of his carefully constructed emotion-blocking wall.

A second later he felt a rush of air stir his cloak and looked up to see Potter’s form speeding away. Narrowing his eyes, Draco followed.


***


“No.”

Potter looked up from his clipboard, dark brows drawn in. “Look, Malfoy, I’m adding yoga to your routine whether you like it or not.”

“Look, Potter,” Draco mimicked, “My mother does yoga. Pansy does yoga. I do not do yoga.”

“Quit being difficult. Now let’s see. Strength training....” Potter trailed off as he started writing again.

“I’m serious,” Draco said, letting a bit of the whine he mastered from childhood creep into his voice. “I refuse to do any kind of yoga.”

Potter raised an eyebrow but didn’t even glance up as he continued scribbling something. “My diagnostic test shows your center of balance is extremely off and yoga will help.”

Letting out an irritated sigh, Draco decided to allowed the issue to pass – for now. Quite frankly, and he never thought it possible, he was sick of arguing with Potter.

“I think flying will be a good aerobic exercise,” the brunette said, the left side of his mouth lifting. Draco firmed his twitching lips, ignoring the smile that was almost too hard to resist.

“Do I even have to be here for all this?” he said, feeling his stomach groan with hunger. Their half hour break for a breakfast smoothie had been less than satisfactory, and a hungry Draco was a grumpy Draco. It didn’t help that he was also cold and half naked, having had to take his robe off for Potter’s ‘diagnostic tests’. He hadn’t appreciated the way the brunette had stared at him, probably mapping out all his flaws.

Potter finally looked up, letting the clipboard dip in his slackened arms as he scanned Draco’s body again. “What, exactly, were your goals when you contacted us? Right now, I have a plan outlined for general fitness, but if there was anything specific...”

Raising an eyebrow, Draco fought the temptation to summon his robe as Potter, again, let his eyes drift down his body. “That should be fine, as long as it...”

He paused, his hand automatically patting against his gut. “As long as it gets rid of any excess flab.”

A beat of silence followed, Draco not having the bravery to look up.

“Are you insane?” Potter suddenly snapped, sounding rather harsh of Draco said so himself. “You don’t have any excess flab. Look at you, you have the body of a god.”

Draco blinked.

Potter blinked.

It was quite entertaining to watch the red flush creep up the brunette’s face and down his neck. Draco might have made a snarky remark, if it wasn’t for the distraction he was receiving from his heart as it beat triple its natural rhythm.

Potter cleared his throat and lifted the clipboard, holding it at an unnaturally high angle as he seemingly tried to shield his face. He started to sputter.

“What I think we should concentrate on is strengthening your center of balance.” His eyes flashed towards Draco briefly before once again focusing on the clipboard in his hands. “That’s important. If you don’t have a good center of balance then you might have pelvic or spinal distortions later in life. Not to mention your back will be in poor shape and–”

“Potter,” Draco said, effectively stopping his mile-per-minute speech.

The brunette glanced up, a pleading look bright in his eyes that clearly begged for the whole thing to just be forgotten. The warmth Draco had been feeling in his chest turned into a liquid cold. Was it really so bad for Potter to compliment him? “Let’s have lunch before we do anymore.”

Looking relieved, Potter shook his head no. “That’s enough for today. Why don’t we start with a more regular routine tomorrow.”

Happily summoning his cloak to cover his body, Draco nodded. “Tomorrow, but not too early.”

***


This time when Draco was woken up at eight in the morning, he smiled. He had warned Potter not to come too early, so when he heard the indignant shriek of Potter getting caught in his trap, a warm satisfaction rested in his belly. He cast a silencing charm so Potter could shout to his heart’s content inside the invisible box without disturbing Draco’s rest, and went back to sleep.

He woke a few hours later, careful to keep his arousal hidden as he stretched his spine and drew in a deep breath. Potter was sitting against his bedroom wall, looking every bit of a petulant child. Draco smirked and lifted the silencing spell.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Potter practically growled, “Ready to let me out?”

“Hmm.” Draco arched his back in another stretch. “I told you not to come before noon.”

“I’m charging you for every second I was trapped here.”

Draco shrugged before dissipating the barrier around the furious man. “It’s worth it, in my opinion. I’m going to take a shower.”

Potter took the hint, starting for the door. As he walked into the hall, Draco thought heard something along the lines of ‘charging double’ but he couldn’t be sure. He pulled out his new outfit, a t-shirt and pants modeled after Potter’s clothing – although not nearly as tight – and made his way to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked down to his living room and frowned. Potter had set two rectangles of something that looked strange, like rubber cloth, onto the hardwood floor. He was bent over touching his toes, black hair falling into emerald eyes as the muscles in his forearms shifting under tan skin.

“What’s this?” Draco said with a raised eyebrow.

Potter straightened and – if Draco didn’t know better of ex-Gryffindors – appeared to smirk. A ridiculous thought distracted him for a second, wondering how Potter’s dorky glasses always stayed in place. Was it a sticking charm?

“I thought the perfect way to start the day off would be with some yoga,” the trainer said happily, a grin revealing a perfect row of white teeth.

“No.”

The grin didn’t falter for a second as he shrugged his shoulders and planted his feet firmly into the rubber mat he was standing on. “If you don’t want to participate with me, then I could always go back and have Ron send someone else from the company. If I’m not mistaken, he seemed pretty interested in the idea of training you himself.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, his hand flickering towards his gut. “I don’t really even need a trainer, you know.”

“I know,” Potter said uncharacteristically soft. Something warm pooled into Draco’s stomach.

“Fine, I’ll try it.”

“Great. We’ll start with some deep breathing.”

“Deep breathing?”

“You said you’d try it.”

Draco held up his hands in defeat and went to stand where Potter was pointing to on the other mat. He mirrored the trainer when he lifted his hands and set them on his belly. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath,” Potter said in a silky voice. He did as he was told, ignoring all thoughts that came to mind from that tone.

“That’s it,” he heard Potter say. “Slowly breathe in and out deeply. Relax your body.”

Draco did so, fighting the urge to crack an eye open and see if Potter was watching him.

After about ten rounds of just breathing he let out a frustrated growl. “This is boring.”

Potter snorted. “Deep breathing helps improve metabolism.”

“A job well done, really, so we can move on.”

“Alright.” Potter said, already moving into the next position as he talked. “Lift your arms above your head and tilt your body to the side.”

One again Draco mirrored his movements, feeling ridiculous as Potter just stared at him serenely while breathing deeply. A good half minute later he followed as Potter arced his body the other way.

Draco knew about yoga, at least as much as he had found out from his mother. He knew basic concepts, of the poses, and ridiculous mentions of centering the body or whatever physiological shit that came with it. What he didn’t know was how absolutely boring it was. Was Potter taking the piss? This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done; there wasn’t any way someone would call this exercise.

“The half-moon pose stretches the waist muscles,” Potter said in that practiced silky voice of his. He returned to an upright position and gracefully brought his arms down in front of his chest in that dumb way, like he was praying.

“Why are you doing this?” Draco said suddenly, surprising himself at expressing the thought before it even fully formed in his mind.

“I told you, when you stand you’re center of–”

“No. I mean, why are you a fitness trainer?”

“Oh.” Something flashed in Potter’s eyes, too quickly for Draco to see properly. “Becoming an Auror didn’t work out. So when Ron started a wizarding fitness company with his cousin, I went to work for them.”

There was a tension in the air, mingling with the thick realization that Potter was being so open with him. He didn't have to answer Draco’s question. It seemed almost friendly.

“Now,” Potter said, his voice again smooth and professional, “the warrior pose is a good stretch for your thighs and hips and it will also help align your pelvis.”

Draco sighed and resigned himself for a morning of yoga. He hoped afterwards they could have a quick snack and go flying.



***

“Dammit Draco, keep breathing when you do this or you’re going to raise your blood pressure.”

Draco was starting to get used to having Harry come every day. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he looked forward to the visits. The brunette had learned his lesson about early mornings and started arriving at 12:01, promptly. Draco would wake up to a pounding at the bedroom door, grunt out a confirmation that he was awake, and have a nice little wank before heading downstairs.

It was the beginning of second week that he skipped his morning wank, too rushed with an itching desire to spend time with Harry. He didn’t know it would be a mistake, leaving him... easily excitable.

As he tried to focus on his jackknife exercise – or as he called it, the dead bug workout – his concentration was completely thrown by Harry. Didn’t Harry realize how suggestive he sounded when he breathed like that? Little grunts and soft sighs kept whispering through air, the noise stirring something in Draco’s groin.

“Why did you stop?” At Harry’s words Draco jumped, or he would have had he not been lying on his back. As it is, he ends up arching like a worm.

He turned his head towards Harry, noting that the brunette was still flushed from their morning flying. Or maybe it was from the jack knifes, he couldn’t be sure, but either way Harry looked so fucking suggestive that Draco had to bit his lip and turn away. His imagination was a dangerous thing, and stimulating it with such a sight was just cruel.

“Draco?”

He used to be fine when it came to separating himself, but now it was different. Now his mind dared to dream up fantasies when Harry was still in the same room, instead of keeping them in the safety of his bedroom and shower. It had started when he began to call the brunette Harry, not Potter. And that was Harry’s fault, really, considering he only did it out of common decency. After all, he was called Draco.

“Draco.”

See?

“What?” he said, realizing that Harry was hovering over him, green eyes narrowed.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Draco said, sounding harsher than he had actually meant. Well, he was
frustrated. He had a fucking right to sound harsh when Harry’s tight shirt was riding up his stomach, revealing firm abs. When the trainer continued to watch him through narrowed eyes, he shrugged and said, “My back hurts. I think I strained it flying.”

In an instant Harry transformed into the professional trainer he was, pulling out his wand and waving it in distinctive diagnostic spells. His dark eyebrows were drawn low in concentration, his lips pursing slightly. Draco really, really hoped the spells wouldn’t pick up the arousal he was fighting down. When Harry’s wand finally stilled his face was scrunched up in obvious confusion.

“You should be alright,” he muttered. “No muscle, or nerve damage. What hurts?”

“I told you, my back.”

“Where?”

Draco sighed dramatically and made a show of grimacing as he sat up, noting the way Harry’s hands twitched towards him. He wondered what it would take to get the brunette to actually touch him. It was a brief, wistful thought, but something about it stuck in his mind.

“Draco, are you okay?” Again, with Harry’s words came a flicker of his fingers, as if he was contemplating grabbing hold of the pale blonde.

“Will you rub it?” Draco said, pouting. His eyes shot over to the sofa not too far from their spots on the floor. A red flush soaked through Harry’s cheeks, giving him a ridiculously innocent expression.

“But I...”

“Please?” Draco said, rolling his shoulder and faking a wince.

There was a stiff moment of silence, followed by a barely audible “Okay.”

Draco shook his head when Harry leaned closer with his hands stretched out and instead motioned to the sofa. The brunette helped him stand, holding onto his arm as if he was made of glass while they walked the short distance. He managed to take off his shirt and hide his smirk at Harry’s averted gaze before laying belly-down on the sofa.

Harry’s hands felt so bloody wonderful against his skin he made a vow, there and then, that they would belong to him, touch only him with this level of intimacy from now on. Draco sighed happily as the warmth of Harry’s contact eased over his back again and again, light touches followed by gentle massages.

The caressing pressure moved up his spine, fingers pressing firmly into muscles until Draco’s whole body was melting into the sofa. Never could he remember feeling as precious as he did then, with Harry’s fingers so carefully massaging into his skin. Closing his eyes slowly he let out a contented sigh.


Above him Harry hissed before the warm hands on his back jerked away. He opened his eyes and looked back, confusion wrinkling his forehead as he caught sight of Harry’s wide eyes and parted lips. He looked panicked.

“Harry?”

“I’ve got to go.”

Draco sat up so fast he really did feel a ping of sharp pain in his back. “What? We just started.”

Harry didn’t appear to be listening as he proceeded to snatch up his jacket and put it on – inside out.

“Harry...”

The brunette frowned and looked down at the jacket before tearing it off and throwing it over his shoulder. It slipped off onto the floor, forgotten as he made a dash to get out of the room. He only crossed about half the distance before Draco caught hold of his wrist and spun him around.

“Why are you running away?”

The panic in Harry’s eyes swirled into anger. “I’m not running away.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

He felt Harry’s body tense, then sag. His grip around the brunette’s wrist eased slightly, fingers moving over the tan skin in a caress.

“You like my body, don’t you?”

Harry opened his mouth, but his only response was a squeaking noise that sounded a mix between a howling cat and a screeching owl.

He guided Harry’s hands to his body, placing one on his hip and the other against his chest. Hearing the hitch in Harry’s breath encouraged Draco further and he let go before leaning fully into the firm body. Harry’s hands twitched against his skin, but remained.

“It’s okay to touch; I won’t bite,” he murmured into Harry’s ear before grazing his lips against it. Traveling down the expanse of neck that arched wonderfully just for him, Draco took a moment to suck a patch of skin, marking it. He licked a tan shoulder before biting it, drawing out a gasp. “Okay, I lied.”

“What are we doing?” Harry said, his voice strained.

“Giving in to what we want.”

There was a long, agonizing pause between them as Draco waited for a response. Then, to his great satisfaction, Harry made a whimpering noise and his hands shifted, pulling their bodies together and snogging the breath right out of Draco. Not that he minded, what with the way a warm tongue moved sensuously inside his hot mouth.

He practically purred when he felt Harry’s hands begin to rub up and down his sides. Shivers raced along his spine at ever soft grace of skin against skin, stirring a heat underneath the surface that drained straight into his groin.

“Harry,” he whispered, half astonished, half pleading as he tugged the fabric of the brunette’s shirt roughly. Harry lifted his arms compliantly and Draco ripped it off his body before filling his pale hands with warm, tan flesh.

His feet started to stumble backwards, and it was only after he realized Harry was pushing him that he started to move fluidly. The brunette was probably aiming for the sofa, but instead they ended up in a painful pile of awkwardly angled limbs on the floor. There was a chorus of moans as the young men started to untangle, followed by a mumbled apology from Harry.

Draco was about to respond that he rather didn’t mind Harry being so intimately draped above him when the brunette suddenly shifted, slipping his knee between Draco’s thighs and rubbing. Draco threw his head back and gasped, ignoring the smart thump of his skull against the floor in favor of concentrating on the tasty friction against his groin.

Harry’s body stilled for a beat, panting above him. Looking down, he pressed his thigh against Draco’s groin once again. And again, and again, and again, rocking his toned body into Draco’s sensitive groin until the blonde was reduced to incoherent whimpers from the pleasant heat coiling tightly in his groin.

“No,” he gasped when he felt the comforting heat of Harry’s body withdrawing. He was about to pull him back down for some more delicious frottage when he felt a tug at his boxers. Groaning as cool air hit his heated erection, the excitement of what was happening pumped through his veins. He reached up and assisted in the removal of Harry’s shirt, happily dragging his hands down the expanse of smooth flesh that was reveled.

“Get on the couch,” Harry said softly in almost a plea while standing and kicking off his shoes.

Draco complied, his erection bobbing as he leapt onto the sofa and laid on his back. A dip in the cushions informed him of Harry’s presence at his side not a second later, naked and panting and looking so fucking sexy Draco though he would die if he didn’t kiss him. So he did. Cupping Harry’s jaw, he brought him down and playfully licked at his bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside that hot, wet cavern. The texture of their tongues sliding together sent shivers of pleasure down his back, curling his toes.

He felt a brushing touch to his cock and moaned as Harry’s hand wrapped around him, pulling tightly and pushing back down. The kiss was broken as Draco arched his back, fire pulsing in his groin and down his legs, numbing them as the liquid pleasure built in his gut.

As he fell back onto the sofa he reached up and pulled Harry down. Draco couldn’t do anything more than whimper and clutch at Harry’s shoulders while the brunette worked a hand up and down his twitching shaft, over and over. A hot mouth began moving down his chest, soft lips and a slick tongue torturing his skin with pleasure.

When he realized what the destination of those wonderful lips and sensual tongue was, his breath rushed out so fast it burned his lungs. Then Harry mouthed his cock and the air was gasped back into his chest faster than it had left.

“Fuck!” he cried as heat and velvet softness surrounded him. His hips thrust up, trying to press him further into that tantalizing warmth, but he was stopped by a firm arm across his abdomen. Harry sucked hard and slow, moving a slick tongue against the bottom of the shaft.

“Yes,” Draco hissed as Harry pulled back and probed his slit, white glinting across his vision like a flash of lighting. A breath of air came, cooling his heated erection with a strangely teasing sensation that raised the hairs on his thoughts. Then the strong, velvet hotness was returned in such intense warmth he gripped at the armrest above his head and arched his back clear off the sofa.

He wanted to come so badly, but at the same time he wished it could last forever. Harry was gentle and loving and – fuck – worshipping Draco, drawing out a whole new level of arousal from his body. He wanted to tell the brunette how perfect this moment was, how bloody fantastic that it was Harry, but all he could manage was a broken chanting of Harry’s name.

He felt the head of his member touch the roof of a mouth, the back of a smooth throat and it was too much, his balls drew up, pushing out his release. Intense pleasure spurted out his cock in thick ropes, spilling inside that wonderful mouth as his vision burned white. Shutters racked his body, trembling muscles vibrating deep into his being.

It was a good minute or two before he found the strength to open his eyes. Harry was leaning over him, a desperation in his eyes as he feverously stroked his own cock. Draco wanted help, he really did, but he was feeling much too lethargic to even raise his pinky. Instead he pushed all his lust and desires and longing and satiation into one look that he hoped conveyed everything he was feeling right now. Next time, he’d do so much more, but for now it was what he offered.

Apparently, it was enough, because Harry made the most wonderful sound in the world and then a hot fluid was splashing against his chest. When the brunette collapsed on him, breathing harshly in his ear, Draco somehow found the strength to lift his hand and rub circles on Harry’s back. Something about this – the weight of Harry on him, the panting in his ear, the wet kiss that was placed on his neck – was already imbedding itself inside Draco. He needed this, wanted it so badly he already knew the great lengths he would go through to keep Harry, to make him his.

He could tell the moment when coherent thought returned to Harry when the body above him tensed. Draco had to say something, anything to keep Harry from panicking again. If ever there was a time for one of his witty remarks, it was now, but with his mind still foggy from his orgasm he couldn’t think. He needed, he–

“Does that count as an aerobic exercise?” he said suddenly, halting Harry’s attempts at pushing away from him. “Because as much as I like flying, I’d forgo it any day in exchange for sex.”

Harry appeared started, then confused, then... hurt? Oh hell, Draco was much too exhausted to figure out what he had said that was wrong. Although, in some part of his mind he recognized that he had just equated what they had done together as just a casual activity.

“I’ll think about adding it to your training,” Harry said in a tight voice, turning his gaze away.

Draco tried to catch his eyes, but couldn’t. If that’s the way it was going to be, then so be it. Draco could play the game of slow seduction. He’d already proven Harry wanted him. He could be coy and tempting and over a stretch of time ease Harry into the type of relationship he desired so badly with the brunette. He opened his mouth to set lose the first in many plays in this quickly forming plan, but apparently his darn hand had a different idea. He found himself cupping the back of Harry’s neck and kissing his lips tenderly before whispering against them, “Please don’t let that be the only time.”

Oh hell. That wasn’t subtle at all, damnit. It was vulnerable.

But, he decided as Harry smiled shyly and collapsed back on top of him, that it would be okay.


***


Over the next few months, Draco found out that he could be motivated to get up early. In fact, he would often be the one waking Harry up – for their morning sex, of course.

-Fin