What Harry Loves

Harry loves this time of the morning, when the air is fresh and clear and cool, just before the summer heat starts to seep in and a cooling charm has to be cast. He always wakes first, blinking the sleep from his eyes, bathed in the warm and comforting heat of a body pressed spoon-like to his. His arm rests over the other man’s hip, his fingers barely brushing the alabaster skin beneath them.

Harry loves this quiet time before his lover awakes, before his piercing gray eyes open and before his drawling, somewhat sarcastic voice breaks the morning silence.

It is the time before dawn, the thin line between light and dark. But, Harry has nowhere that he has to be today, nor does his lover. A faint quirk lifts the corners of his mouth, this is what he has waited for all week.

Slowly, ever so carefully, Harry moves out of the indent their bodies have made in the mattress, his lover rolling to fill in the still warm space, laying now flat on his back, his naked form beautiful in its sleepy composure.

Draco lifts a hand, his fingers curling in a sleepy motion, brushing his long, blond hair from his face. Harry stifles a soft laugh, for this is so Malfoy, so very Draco that even in his sleep, he is concerned about his appearance. No, Draco is not vain, well… not undeservingly so. He is a lean, taut mass of muscle stretched in lazy drowsiness in Harry’s bed. And if he’s vain, well, Harry doesn’t mind, because Draco Malfoy is in Harry’s bed and Harry is quite determined to keep him there.

The faint light plays through the blinds of Harry’s flat; the beams illuminating the pale flesh displayed next to Harry. He lifts his hand and watches as the motes of dust flicker around his pointed index finger before he lowers it to the chest of the man sleeping next to him. He slowly runs it down the creamy flesh, feeling the muscles twitch slightly at his first touch, but then relax as he slowly outlines every indent between Draco’s ribs, then moves over to his belly button. Harry represses the urge to tickle his lover, but still he can’t resist running his fingernail lightly over the edges of the circle of flesh and watching as the sleeping man shivers and then turns slightly toward him.

“What ‘er yer doin’ Potter?” Draco slurs in a sleepy-not-awake voice. He reaches for Harry’s hand, but fails miserably. His eyelashes flicker, but he’s not awake enough to open his eyes to see what his lover is doing. Or because Harry has now flattened his hand over Draco’s stomach, letting it rise with each breath Draco takes.

“Go back to sleep,” Harry urges, in his own way replying to Draco’s inquiry.

Draco grunts softly and the one hand that failed so miserably to find Harry’s hand now rests upon its owner’s shoulder; laying casually in somnolent abandon.

This time comes so seldom, that Harry plans to take full advantage of it.

Harry eases the sheet down from Draco’s hip, his hand sliding over the jutting hipbone, before leaving the sheet rumpled at Draco’s knees.

He studies the dozing man, and marvels at the pale, pink cock that rests in a blond nest of curls; so very different than the hard, throbbing, dark pink flesh that he had so willing rode last night. He licks his lips, bends down, his head almost touching Draco’s thigh and he studies the flaccid organ.

Without any conscious thought, Harry tastes the tip with his tongue. It’s a dark, almost bittersweet taste and for the briefest moment he wonders if Draco follows some sort of diet to make his cock taste so good to Harry. Or perhaps it’s just that Harry loves dick.

Draco shifts, and Harry wonders if he’s woken him, but Draco gives no indication that he’s awake, so Harry decides that he wants to taste a wee bit more.

His lips slip over the beautifully curved head, his lips fitting easily around the length and he allows his tongue to wander over the smooth flesh. Oh yes, he can still taste the remnants of himself from last night, the dark, musky, almost heady flavor of come, and the salty, slightly bitter taste of sweat from when Draco had pounded him last night. Harry smiles around his delicious mouthful, remembering how Draco had taken him against the wall. How Harry had been forced to place his hands flat against the smooth, cool surface, his cheek smashed almost flat from the force of Draco’s thrusts. How good it had felt, how hard he had come, and how Draco had almost said the words that Harry had been waiting to hear.

Harry wrapped a hand lightly around Draco’s cock, then with a rhythm that he knew would harden Draco, he moved it along the flesh in time to the sucking, tasting motions of his mouth. Harry knew what Draco liked, and Harry knew what Harry liked and wasn’t it just perfect that they were so in sync in their needs?

A mumbled, almost half-whispered curse word escapes Draco’s lips and Harry freezes, because what he is doing is almost akin to rape as he is taking advantage of his lover while he sleeps. But, how could paying homage to the part of Draco that gives him so much pleasure be considered wrong?

But Harry isn’t one to concern himself with dictionaries or books in general and Harry begins to suck Draco in earnest, his mouth taking in more and more of the man before him.

“Harry?” Draco asks sleepily, his pale hand coming to rest on Harry’s hair; long fingers sifting through the dark, tangled locks.

Harry lets his delicious treat slip from his mouth.

“Go back to sleep,” Harry repeats, before flattening his hand against Draco’s belly. This soothing gesture, between lovers, allows Draco to drift back asleep. Grinning, Harry watches his eyelids flicker then shut; his blond lashes almost invisible against his creamy white skin.

Draco’s cock hasn’t been forgotten, but Harry has other plans for his sleeping lover. He lies back down beside Draco, spooning up against him almost as they were before, but this time Harry oh-so-gently eases the other man to his side, and then to his stomach. Draco now lies sprawled out with one leg straight and the other arched across the mattress. This position leaves his arse rounded and bare in the faint morning light.

The pale, bare bottom is deliciously curved, the almost invisible pale blond fuzz that covers his cheeks is incredibly soft to the touch. Harry can’t resist. But, rarely can Harry resist Draco Malfoy.

He smoothes his palm over the curved flesh, his thumb rubbing small circles as he caresses this firm flesh. He slithers down so that his face is now across from Draco’s sweet arse. He noses closer, intent upon licking the down-covered skin. Harry pauses, his fingers spreading the mounds of warm flesh, then touches the tip of his tongue to his lover’s entrance. Harry waits, for it is so very important that Draco does not wake. Draco shivers slightly, then relaxes, his breath steady and even as he continues to sleep.

His lover is still unaware of his ministrations and Harry presses the flat of his tongue over Draco’s anus, moving it slightly back and forth to loosen its puckered stance. Draco sighs and shifts and Harry moves so that he can continue to lave this one small area of his lover’s body.

Harry closes his eyes and savors the taste and smell of his lover. He cannot wake now for everything that Harry has done will be for naught. He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to cast a charm on his unwitting lover, but needs must be met and Harry has waited all week for this.

The words are whispered and Harry knows that Draco has fallen into a deeper sleep than before and that he will not wake until Harry has finishes the tasks he’s set for himself.

He lowers his head and his tongue darts out and enters Draco, and the sparks of arousal start to burn in earnest within him. The blond stirs, but doesn’t wake and Harry plunges in deeper, spreading Draco wider to facilitate his movements. As the muscles start to tighten around his tongue, Harry curls his tongue and drags it against Draco’s sensitive inner walls. Finally, when he feels Draco quiver, Harry pulls his tongue free from the clenching muscles of his lover and draws it up the pale crack.

Draco sighs, clutching his pillow tighter and rolls his hips against the mattress. Harry knows that if he were awake, he would be frotting against him from the undeniable excitement that is building within him. Or at least this is what Harry assumes. For if Draco were rimming him and sucking him off, he would be writhing from the blonde’s touch.

Harry slides back down until he can nuzzle against Draco’s scrotum. The warmth and softness of the crinkly skin draws Harry back again and again until he sucks Draco in his mouth. He smiles to himself, feeling himself harden and become more aroused as he tickles the down-covered flesh in his mouth.

Draco gasps loudly, and Harry freezes. He knows that Draco will awaken soon whether he charms him again or not. He lets Draco’s sac slip from his mouth.

Harry moves around and rolls Draco onto his back and moves around until he kneels between Draco’s legs. Draco’s breaths are less steady, less even and more shallow now. His eyelids flicker, but the charm holds for now.

With a sure, but light touch, Harry’s fingers slip around the hardened cock that juts from Draco’s soft blond curls of his pubis. He can’t resist sliding his circled fingers down the firm length, and sighs. He remembers how much pleasure this has given him; how much satisfaction this one part of Draco gives him each time Draco fucks him. For Draco fucks, he doesn’t make love as Harry would like him to. There is no gentleness or tenderness, not yet at least. But, this doesn’t keep Harry from wishing for a kind word or a soft touch, instead of the brutal, punishing fingers digging into his hips or arse, and gasped curses grunted into his ears.

Yet, Harry grants Draco the tenderness that he, himself, craves. His hand moves swiftly, sliding over Draco’s cock. He almost wishes he had the guts to fuck him while he was asleep. There would be nothing more beautiful than to watch Draco Malfoy come without any pretense of superiority, or the harsh control that he holds over himself.

His hand slides down Draco’s length one more time, and he trails his fingers over Draco’s stomach until he has his hand positioned on Draco’s hip.

“Draco,” Harry half-whispers, for to wake this god-like creature, this blond Apollo, seems to be something akin to a sin - to disturbing a mythical god of ages past. He slides his hand from his hip over the warm skin of his lover to his chest, until it rests over his left nipple, the one with the piercing.

Harry had asked him why he had done such a thing, to pierce such a sensitive part of his body, and Draco had only shrugged and then sneered back at him. “Why? You want one, Potty? Afraid it will hurt?” But, then his mercurial lover had laughed and drawn his head to the small rod and Harry had suckled the small pierced nub and felt the shivers of delight course through Draco. And he had understood.

His finger toys with the small rod briefly before he flattens his palm over Draco’s nipple. He waits, for Draco's eyes are moving faster under his eyelids and Draco’s tongue has darted out to moisten his lips.

“Mmmh,” Draco breathes, his own hand trailing down his chest to come to rest on his stomach. Even this sleepy ritual of waking is sexy to Harry and Harry can’t resist the urge to lean down and steal a kiss from those slightly damp, pale lips.

Draco’s other arm wraps around Harry’s neck, pulling him down into a deeper, passionate kiss. Harry did not expect him to be that awake, but there is no resisting Draco Malfoy.

“Mmm, Potter. Been awake long?” Draco asks, his eyes already bright and alert and not at all like Harry’s when he awakes to find a lover kissing him.

Harry smiles and replies with feigned innocence, “Not long.”

Releasing Harry’s neck, Draco stretches in his usual cat-like fashion, his muscles ripple under Harry’s palm and the faintest smile quirks at Harry’s lips as he watches.

“I had a dream,” Draco says suddenly, and Harry starts, but Draco has his hand wrapped around the Harry’s wrist and is sliding his hand toward his groin.

“Oh?” Harry replies, and nervously licks his lips as if this will hide their slightly swollen appearance.

“I dreamt…” Draco stops, and he studies Harry, his eyes piercing while they search Harry’s face. “I dreamt that I was being made love to,” he says quickly as if he is afraid that Harry will laugh at him, because Harry has only been fucked by Draco Malfoy and that love is not a part of his vocabulary unless he talks about it in mocking, sneering tones.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asks, his eyes looking toward the stiff cock that juts upward right below where his hand now rests. It bobs slightly when Draco breathes.

Draco doesn’t reply, but shrugs. Harry feels the confusion ripple through his body and into his hand.

The moments pass and Harry hears Draco swallow, but Harry refuses to look into Draco’s eyes, for he will know what Harry has done, because Harry has never been that good at hiding his guilt.

“Potter,” Draco says softly.

Harry reluctantly lifts his head and faces his lover, knowing that whatever words that come next will define their relationship from this point forward. Because Harry wants more than a fuck, more than a hard cock ramming up his arse making him come, more than the occasional “Harry” that Draco graces him with.

“Harry,” Draco says even more softly, his other arm lifting and his hand coming to rest flat on Harry’s chest as if he is testing to see that Harry is real.

Harry looks up and is caught by the intensity of Draco’s gaze. His breath hitches in his throat and he mentally starts an apology, but before he speaks, Draco whispers what he’s been waiting to hear, words that aren’t just words, but something that means that Draco finally trusts him and that perhaps he will be staying in Harry’s bed for more than just a night at a time from now on.

“Make love to me?” The words are said with such a longing, that Harry closes his eyes to prevent the tears that threaten to spring up unbidden. For even now, he doesn’t trust himself to show how much he loves this man.

Harry cannot speak, not yet.

“Harry?” Draco asks, the words sounding more like a plea than a question.

A small shy, almost boy-like smile spreads across Harry’s face as he opens his eyes and gazes back at his lover.

“Yes,” Harry replies simply, before leaning down to begin.


Just a nice little piece of fluff for you all to enjoy...

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