In Times of War

Premise: Harry defeated Voldemort, but many of his devoted Death Eaters refused to give up the fight and the wizarding world has descended into an unforgiving war of attrition. Four years this war has been raging and Draco is now a former Death Eater fighting on the frontlines for the Light side. Harry desperately wanted to join his friends and makeshift family in battle but the remaining members of the Order who lead the fight against the Death Eaters, came to the unanimous decision that it was too dangerous for Harry to appear in battle, fearing that losing the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort would be akin to losing the fight. As a result Harry (unable to simply sit back and watch everyone he cares about fighting and dying in a war he can't stop) inserted himself into the fight by acting as a self-trained healer and does the best he can patching up the never ending stream of victims that pour in from the frontlines.

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A flickering batch of gutted candles were floating in a cluster near the top of the tarp tent filling the area with a grimy yellow light. There was a single fluorescent lamp near the center of the room that was hooked up to a gently whirring generator and suspended above a reclining chair. It's brilliance was a little blinding at first but then Harry was use to that.

Squinting slightly and running his hand wearily through his hair he approached the figure that was lying in the chair.

“Malfoy?”

Pale grey eyes flickered open to glare at him.

“About fucking time.” Malfoy rasped at him, his teeth were chattering as he spoke and a shiver ran through his half exposed body. The right side of his torso was covered in a sheen of blood and he had a hand pressed around the width of a thin metal beam that was protruding from the flesh of his abdomen.

“Sorry, I was told it wasn't all that bad― your wound.” Harry muttered under his breath as he pulled his wand from his hip and scourgified his own hands before striding forward to the cone of brilliance that the fluorescent light cast around the patient's chair.

Paying no mind to the more than colourful words that fell from Malfoy's lips, Harry focused instead on assessing the damage. Prying away Malfoy's grimy hand and watching the blood bubble around a ragged edged wound Harry had to grimace.

A quick spell told him that the screw-edged metal pole embedded in Malfoy's abdomen had missed all of his vital organs and major arteries but he knew from experience that Malfoy had to have been in a great deal of pain. Harry gingerly prodded the wound with tender fingers for a few more short moments, desisting when Malfoy groaned and knocked his head back against the headrest of the chair in frustration.

Harry glanced up through his limply hanging bangs, trying to assess Malfoy's pain levels.

“You feeling nauseous?”

“I'm over that bit.” Malfoy ground out.

“Lightheaded?”

“I wish.”

“One more question.” Malfoy opened his eyes and glared at him once more, his bangs had stuck to his forehead with sweat and there was a smudge of dirt-streaked blood that highlighted his cheekbone. “How the fuck did you get an injury like this anyways?”

There was a hint of a smirk on Draco's lips then as he answered.

“Disarmed a fellow near that old crumbling factory at the edge of town. I thought that was it was end of story for him. Went to unmask him and he tackled me, drove this rod right through me.”

“And then what?”

“He tried to make a run for it.”

“And?”

“And I kicked his bloody skull in. End. Of. Story.” He punctuated.

Harry had to snicker a little at that. “Good show then.” Harry intoned. Malfoy flinched as he pressed his hand a few inches above the wound.

“Will you take care of it already.” Malfoy finally snapped at him. Harry looked up at that, the dogtags around his neck rankling with the sudden movement. Grey eyes were swimming with pain, a fervent light of panic thinly veiled by exhaustion visible in their depths.

Harry heaved a sigh.

“Right then. Well they were right. The wound itself isn't exactly life-threatening, painful yes, but you're relatively lucky all things considered. The thing is I'm not exactly an expert with my numbing spells, so this isn't going to be pleasant....” Harry trailed off, ducking his head a little and feigning concentration.

“Right. I get it, it's gonna hurt. Well it's gonna fucking hurt whether you do it now or ten days from now so just get the bloody thing out of me, Potter.” Malfoy growled.

Harry looked up, rubbing the stubble of his chin thoughtfully. It was late in the day and he was exhausted but Malfoy was right. It had to be done, and he had the arsenal of spells he needed to heal the ex-deatheater once the offending object had been removed.

Leaning away from Malfoy's bloody torso he raised his wand, the incantation for the body bind already on his tongue but Malfoy jerked his head 'no'.

“I fucking hate being immobilised.” He grumbled. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Fine be difficult if you must.”

Taking a deep breath Harry stepped in tight against Malfoy's prone form and laid a hand gently against his abdomen, pressing his fingers on either side of protruding pole. He heard rather than saw Draco grit his teeth and out of the corner of his eyes he caught the way his hands clawed around the arms of the chair.

Tucking his wand back into his waistband he wrapped his free hand around the coarse edges of pole and gave a gentle tug. A low hiss escaped Draco's lips and Harry felt him tense under him. Slowly, relentlessly Harry began to drag the pole out and Draco gasped, shuddering in an effort not to buck up.

Blood bubbled up around his hand and Harry pressed down harder feeling the pole slipping through his fingers even as he pinned Draco down against the chair. A low keening sound followed by a breathless grunt forced Harry to pause.

Wild grey eyes opened to look at him. Blood was welling up black through his fingers and about his hand and Draco was heaving deep, gasping breaths. With a final twisting of his wrist Harry jerked the last little bit of the offending pole free of Draco's wound, not so much as blinking as Draco gave a strangled shout and collapsed limply against the chair.

“Fuck.” He rasped.

Harry smirked a little. “You handled that well.” He muttered, a little grudgingly. Honestly he had expected Malfoy to cry like a baby, as most people would have. The stoic expression he now wore was more than a little unexpected.

Not really paying any mind to the blood that now covered his hands he gripped his wand once more and flicked his wrist, murmuring incantations under his breath. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye, his chest, slick with blood and sweat, rose and fell with ragged speed.

For a second his breathing hitched and Harry eyed him critically but it evened out with every pass of his wand over the wound and Harry found himself heaving a sigh of relief. Draco's eyelids fluttered a little and he sighed in exhaustion and Harry stilled his hand as the wound closed on itself leaving only pale smooth skin.

“Still alive Malfoy?”

“Sure.” His voice was gravelly but free of pain and he was still wearing a tired little smirk.

Harry reached for a rag and wiped his hands before sweeping the cloth over Draco's skin, wiping away the trails of blood that had gathered in the contours of his torso. Draco mumbled something incomprehensible and Harry chewed on his tongue as he worked, a little bit more than tired by this point.

Just as he was about to turn away something caught his eye. Pausing in his step Harry crouched down, bringing himself eye-level with the tear in the thigh of Malfoy's jeans. The frayed edges were seeped through with blood though the material itself had dried stiff and brown.

“You managed to gash your leg as well as get impaled?”

Malfoy spared him a withering glance. “Sure, that's exactly what I was aiming for.”

“Right. I get it, I know it's rough out there.”

“No Potter, it's not just rough, it's war.” Malfoy snapped, though there was no real hostility in his tone. He pulled himself up on the chair. “It's fine, I should get myself back out there.”

A low unamused laugh rumbled from Harry as he pushed to his feet and shot Draco a reprimanding glance. “Don't you think you've earned yourself a day off?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fine. Let's try again. It's my professional opinion that―”

“You're not a professional Potter.” Draco grumbled. Harry refrained from arguing as Malfoy allowed himself to be steered back against the chair. Harry drew his wand up once more but Draco shook his head.

“I need those pants, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes but tucked his wand away in favour of helping Malfoy shimmy out of his jeans, which he managed with only a low grunt of pain. Letting out the breath he had been holding as a hiss through his teeth, Draco tossed his head back and threw his forearm over his eyes.

“Hurry up.” Malfoy growled.

“Keep your pants on Malfoy.” Harry's gaze flickered up and he was too tired to keep the reflexive smile from his lips. Draco drew his arm away from his eyes to execute a furious glare but flinched instead, a growl rumbling in his chest as Harry ran his fingers exploratively over the ragged gash in his leg.

“Right, well it looks like a nasty little cut you have there. It'll get infected unless properly cleaned so I'm going to have to do some work on it before I can close it up.”

“Look Potter, frankly, I don't give a shit what you have to do it as long as you're quick about it.”

“Malfoy, you do realise that you've lost too much blood to be going back out to the front lines the moment I'm finished with you, right?”

“Yes, yes. I get it. I'm a fucking cripple. Well at least give me a chance to go and crash will you Potter?” His voice was strained but full of grit and part of him suspected that like just about anyone else he patched up Malfoy would end up throwing himself right back into the chaos.

“Sure thing.” Harry huffed, trying to keep his own frustration in check. He suspected that he hadn't exactly done a stand up job when Malfoy yelped and tensed under his prodding touch. Harry straightened up and reached for the head of the fluorescent lamp, trying to better illuminate the wound.

“Oi, Malfoy, push your right leg up a little higher will you?”

When Malfoy didn't shift as expected Harry carded his hands through his hair and glanced up to meet Draco's gaze. The faint colouring of his cheeks and the determined way in which Draco avoided direct eye contact had him doing a double take.

Harry slipped his hand against the inside of Malfoy's thigh just under the wound and forced the leg open. A low groan escaped Malfoy's lips and under the brilliance of the fluorescent light it was impossible to miss the curving bulge that stretched the fabric of Malfoy's red and white boxer-briefs.

An errant look and Draco's eyes caught his own. Malfoy flinched away as though burned.

“Look Potter, don't get the wrong idea.” Draco enunciated every word, the picture of composure, though the faint colour of embarrassment still coloured his cheeks. “It's just been a while since.....”

“Right.” Harry said, not really even having to try to keep his tone void of inflection.

“Honestly, Potter, don't flatter yourself.” Draco rasped out, jolting a little as Hary ignored him all together in favour of pulling out the entrenched bits of gravel and debris from the wound on his thigh.

After a moment of drawn out silence Harry cleared his throat rather authoritatively and pulled his hand away from Malfoy's bloody gash. Having kept his focus on the job at hand Harry was surprised to find that Draco still sported a rather insistent erection despite the fact that the muscles of his right leg were still clenching sporadically in pain.

Drawing his wand, Harry traced it over the gash and watched the flesh knit itself back together again, pushing out a sludge of black congealed blood as it did. With the already bloody washcloth Harry wiped away the blood and he felt Draco go stiff as a board under his touch, and at the edge of his vision the twinging jump of Draco's erection was unmistakable.

Harry pulled away then from the dull heat of the fluorescent lamp and the dank musk of Draco's practically naked body. Idly Harry picked at the dirt and blood under his nearly non-existent nails and tried to catch Malfoy's unseeing gaze. When grey eyes finally looked at his there was a sense of weariness that Harry read in them which he hadn't been expecting. Anger, revulsion, denial, confusion, lust. All of those and more Harry had expected but the it irked him a little that between him and Malfoy there was nothing but shear exhaustion.

“You know,” Harry started casually, unflinching as Draco tried to dissect him with his eyes and well aware of the fact that he was within Malfoy's personal space and within range of an angry right hook, “you might want to have that taken care of.” A casual shrug of his shoulder in the general direction of Draco's still prone form, unassuming but unmistakable.

“Are you offering, Potter?”

Harry took a step forward at that. The open invitation was one that he could appreciate.

“If I was, would you be interested?” Harry asked, leaning in close, feeling the exhaustion of the day lift a little from his shoulders.

“Well I―” Draco faltered then and he seemed to rethink his situation.

“Look Malfoy, it'll help you relax and unwind.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do?”

Harry let his hand come up and trail the inside of Draco's right thigh in a mockery of the much more professional touch he had used just moments earlier. The skin where the wound had been now felt smooth to the touch, firm with the strength of tenuously flexing muscles beneath.

“Whatever feels right.” Harry whispered hoarsely, feeling his groin stir in sympathy to Draco's unfading erection.

“Potter, I don't exactly fancy guys, alright?”

“It's not about that. It's just physical. Purely for gratification.”

A moment of silence caught between them and then Harry drew away, his hand falling limply back to his side. Draco blinked, his body tingling with phantom sensations.

“Look, I've got a two more guys I need to patch up. I'll be back in an hour or so.” If you decide you want me, the words left unsaid hung in the air nevertheless as Harry turned and strode away.

A groan stopped at his dry and cracked lips and Draco was tugging at his hair in frustration, trembling from the shear effort of not relieving himself of his slight problem. It surprised him that he was still flushed under the collar, that he could even feel the blood that throbbed through his groin when his head was spinning from exhaustion.

With a grunt of frustration he shoved the fluorescent lamp away from his eyes, shivering as the heat of it's light hit him in the stomach, warming the skin beyond the natural capabilities of the stuffy tent air. The phantom pain of being impaled still tingled at the edges of his memories but it was easily jostled out by the sensation of trailing his own fingers gently over the area, then lower, slow, slow, slow until his movement froze at the waistband of his boxers.

Draco closed his eyes, and his eardrums rang with the sharp crack of misfired curses and crumbling buildings, of twigs snapping underfoot and laboured breathing. His place was out on the battlefield. Potter expected him to bolt the second his back was turned, expected him to throw himself back headfirst into the trenches, out on the frontlines.

And Draco knew that was the only place for him. The only time someone wasn't throwing him a dirty look was when he was firing curses like a madman at a madman in a deatheater mask.

Still Potter hadn't so much as blinked when he had realised who his patient was. Harder still to ignore was the fact that Potter hadn't even hesitated when he had propositioned him.

Draco let his eyes fall open and slid back against the chair. A twinge of discomfort ran through his neck― a stiff ache that had quite nearly become chronic of late― but Draco found he didn't have the attention to spare as he tentatively palmed his erection through the rough weave of his boxer-briefs.

One day of self-indulgence, he decided, made him no less a soldier in this unending war.

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Feet dragging, kicking up ferocious clouds of dust in his wake Harry trudged back to his tent. Swiping aside the door flap Harry stepped into the relatively well lit space, stopping inches within the space to stretch out his stiffened body, cracking a myriad of joints in his neck, back and shoulders in the process.

A soft groan escaped him as he locked his hands behind his back and arched until the length of his spine tumbled with a deeply satisfying snap of joints and the tension in his body eased, if only momentarily.

Scratching his fingers idly against his scalp Harry eased his hand through his hair and down against the back of his neck, rubbing firmly and feeling the accumulated sweat and grime of the day as grit beneath his fingers.

The gleam of unfamiliar red in the corner of eye gave him pause. He tensed and fixed his gaze on what should have been an empty patient chair. His pulse kicked up as he saw Malfoy's prone pale form still spread out under the harsh fluorescent lights. Though Harry strained he couldn't see Malfoy's expression which was out of the light and Harry exhaled deeply, his body strung with delicious anticipation as he stalked towards him.

Without hesitation Harry pressed his hand firmly against Draco's torso, pushing down against the newly rejuvenated flesh. He pulled his hand away as he felt the ripple of tense muscles beneath his insistent touch. The skin which his hand had covered was flushed a deep pink that faded out slowly under his watch.

Harry found himself swallowing hard as the pale flesh arched and shuddered towards his still outstretched hand under the frame of lighting which pervaded his line of sight. Draco's skin, etched in places with the scars of battle and war, was sheening faintly with sweat which highlighted the hollows of his neck and curved against the contours of his abdomen.

“You didn't expect me to stay.” Draco snapped at last, Harry tried to catch his gaze but it was impossible for his eyes to pierce the curtain of shadow that veiled Draco's expression from him.

“No I didn't.” Harry had to admit. His hand grated against the exposed ridges of Draco's ribs as he explored the torso that was spread out before him. Draco flinched up, his muscles tensing as he pulled into a sitting position. The lights cast a shimmering halo over his platinum hair and cut deep shadows against the angles of his face.

“Did you even want me―”

“I wanted you to stay.” Harry cut him off swiftly; his fingers were pressing against Draco flesh with fevour now. “It's just you didn't seem very eager to accept my proposition, so I assumed....” Harry trailed off, suddenly very acutely aware of the fact that mere inches separated his body from Malfoy's. Quite abruptly the exhaustion and tension in his muscles seemed to meld into an electric flame that flushed him hot around the ears.

“I had my reservations. But rest assured I've had plenty of time to get over the details.” Draco husked as he looped one arm around Harry's neck in an effort to hold himself up. The initiation of contact by Malfoy signaled the flood gates breaking. Harry couldn't help himself then as he pressed Draco back against the chair with the mere rub of his body. His forearm grazed against Draco's unfaltering erection as he pilfered the space between them with a casual press of his frame.

The rag of a wifebeater he wore rubbed against his sweating skin, catching and bunching between their shifting torsos as Harry littered the line of Draco's jaw with sharp, feral, open-mouthed kisses. Draco's hands hooked into the waistband of his jeans and held him strong as he arched his body forward, up and away from the gravitational pull that pinned them both to the inclined surface of the chair.

The rough weave of Draco's underwear was teasing under his touch and he yearned to pull it away but the distinct discomfort of being arched over an examination chair held him back.

“I think a relocation is an order.” Harry said at last, after having dredged up the will power necessary to draw him lips away from Draco's skin. Allowing himself to be momentarily enraptured by the stark pink flush of Draco's aggravated skin, Harry pulled Malfoy's taught form away from the chair by the wrists until both their legs were rather uncomfortably straddling the foot of the chair as they stood pressed against each other.

Reaching just beyond Draco's shoulder with his free hand Harry flicked the overhead lamp off and felt the thrill of being plunged, if only for a second, into a light-depraved blindness. Eventually the candlelight leeched into his vision and he could once again make out the figure of the blond that was standing in front of him, statuesque in his stillness.

Leaning in close he placed a soft kiss against his jawbone, then flexed his tongue out to trail a slow, wet path up from the base of his ear to his temple, his teeth scraping sharply in the wake of the laving muscle. A taste of salted grit pervaded and Harry groaned against Draco's forehead as firm fingers dug into the curve of his spine in response.

Overstepping the barrier of the chair, Harry drew Draco's form to him, leading with biting kisses that had them both lunging for more. Finding his bed by candlelight was easy enough, though the task was slowed immensely by the unforgiving need to rut his hips against Draco's nearly every other step.

Draco hit the mattress of the cot with a low grunt and Harry ended up tripping himself onto his prone form without really meaning to. Once the body was under him, pressing against him, Harry found it nearly impossible to draw away. By then Draco had managed to free Harry torso of his shirt, working at it until Harry pulled up and furiously ripped it from around his neck and tossed it over his shoulder before once more descending on Draco.

Their exposed bodies rubbed and rutted against on another with a jerkiness born of unfamiliarity. None-the-less, it thrilled Harry to feel the way Draco's body arched up against his with desperate force, unsynchronised but powerful, their movements leaving Harry with a raging hunger for more...

Draco bit back a strangled yelp as Harry split his cracked lips with the intensity of his mouth, all scraping teeth and thrusting tongue and forceful lips. Somehow snogging the very breath of life from his lungs was a heady feeling and Draco caught himself fighting for more, for deeper contact and more prolonged connections even as he and Harry both fought to catch their breaths in between their moments of attachment.

Occasionally Harry would slip his hand down to stroke Draco's erection or map out the course of his most sensitive organs with inquisitive fingers through the material of his underwear. The touch was perfectly practiced and with little effort at all it kept him in a state of unfaltering pleasure and smothering need.

A low grunt, a choked moan and Draco was panting hard as Harry jerkily thrust his erection against Draco's left hip, swinging his own hips in a fervent elliptical motion. The body against his was sharp and powerful, rocking him into the coiled mattress of the cot, but Draco found himself reveling in the primal sensations. The urge which took him then, the urge to bare his cock against Harry's was both entirely new and entirely consuming to Draco. But Harry's body pinned his perfectly against the bed, immobilising him against any such action.

Words escaped him entirely as Draco clutched his fingers against Harry's skin, trying to soak up the sensation without being washed away. Then, as though from an entirely removed vantage point, Draco found that he could count the number of vertebrate that flexed under his fingers as he pressed them against the length of Harry's spine. The feeling jolted him and Draco tensed.

Harry growled against the hollow of his neck.

“Rethinking matters?”

“No.” Draco bit out shortly, taking the momentary respite to gain his footing against Harry for the first time that night. Harry rested his head against Draco's collarbone then, his hand, still between them stroked sluggishly at Draco's erection.

The idle silence that stretched between the two of them was neither awkward nor welcoming but rather dead. Draco shivered, feeling need pool in his groin and heat suffuse him in direct contradiction to the cool refrain that entangled him and Harry just then. He arched his hips experimentally, the brush of Harry's erection against his thigh was both exciting and plebeian at once.

Draco undid the fly on Harry's pants with confident fingers and Harry neither tried to stop him nor made any effort to help. The prominent arch of Harry's flushed hard-on tearing through the newly undone confinement of his pants had Draco swallowing hard― who would've have thought Potter liked to go commando.

Curious fingers brushing over the flushed, leaking head was all it took. Harry fell on him with a surge, hooking his hand under Draco's thigh and pushing him into the bed with vigour. The feeling of his erection pumping against his ass, pushing in against his crack was stunning.

It was reflexive for him to pull away but Harry hadn't exactly left him anywhere to draw back to. Slow arduous thrusts lulled a veil of pleasure over him once more. Soon Draco was choking in the musk of Harry's scent as he rocked his hips up against him. The taste of dust was in his mouth as dug his teeth in against the side of Harry's neck. With every thrust Harry's shaft shifted the cloth of his boxer-briefs against the bottom of his balls, making him ache and flush with heat.

Letting his fingers sink into the tenuous muscles of Harry's shoulders Draco drank in the resounding breathless grunt that his hips, his tightening thighs, his body drew from the man above him. Harry pulled his hand through his hair, a look of desperate concentration on his face as he bent Draco back against the mattress, spreading his ass even through the underwear.

Draco felt his lungs seize up as Harry forced a hand between his legs and up into him, disregarding the intrusion of cloth all together. The finger twisting it's way inside him was surreal and more than a little discomforting. Harry's abdomen pressed in against the back of his thighs and Harry's mouth was rough as it closed over his left nipple. Draco gave a low groan as his stomach flipped in a nauseous jolt.

“Don't.” He managed to grind out. Beryl eyes fixed with his, and Harry lifted his mouth from Draco's chest. In response Draco pushed himself further down on the single clothed finger in him, an affirmation. Harry fixed him with a hungry gaze as he continued to work his way inside Draco, who at this point found his body to be singing with far too many conflicting sensations to think straight.

And then there was the entirely unexpected ripple of pleasure that Harry drew from him― a result of Harry extracting his finger ever so slowly, forcing on Draco the surprisingly arousing sensation of cloth from within being hooked past the tight ring of muscle which had clamped down over the offending digit. When Harry trailed his hand up and caught his fingers in the waistband of the boxers and peeled them from his ass, cloth tugging urgently against sensitive skin, Draco couldn't help the low groan that reverberated from him.

Without preamble, Harry shoved his own jeans from his hips, shimmying them beyond sight over the edge of the bed while Draco had the sense to untangle his ankles from his boxer-briefs in the moment of respite.

Harry's bare cock against his balls was hot and textured, rubbing damp circles against the underside of his shaft and over the crease of his sack. Every flex of Harry's hips had Draco's cock twitching against his abdomen and his balls pulling up tighter and tighter. Draco watched with clenching muscles and a sensation of steaming under his non-existent collar as Harry sucked his own fingers into his mouth and laved them thoroughly with saliva, the whole time his hips never stopped moving.

Two fingers forcing their way into him, no warning what so ever and Draco couldn't help the pained grunt that bled past his cracked and abused lips. The muscles of his gut clamped down immediately, rejecting the very thing which he was having a hard time convincing his mind to accept in the first place. Harry's fingers in him felt foreign, the inversion of everything that was right. The stretch was akin to a slow stinging burn, nothing all together unbearable but Draco still felt his stomach twist in knots at the sensation. If Harry hadn't already worked him up so horribly well Draco had no doubt that he would be running with his tail between his legs.

The distraction of Harry's cock frotting against his however wasn't an element to be left out of the equation. The third finger Harry added felt distinctly dry. The was the last coherent thought Draco could remember having before the sentiment 'Fuck.' trampled through his brain.

Harry's cock was pressed flat against his underside so that the slick wet tip was pressing against his perineum, and the sensation jolted him as though he'd been electrified. Suddenly he was so very unsure about― well, everything. Sure it felt good to have his cock stroked, his balls rubbed, doubly so after all the while he had gone without such indulgence but Draco just didn't feel right with fingers pressed up his ass, no matter how connivingly distracting Harry was trying to be.

Reflexively Draco clenched his hands in his hair, letting his fingers entrench in his fringe and screening his face entirely with the flats of his forearms. His chest shuddered as he tried to heave out a suffocating breath and his body chilled with a cold sweat despite the unbearable heat that had flushed it just moments before.

The blunt tip of Harry's erection pressing against his pulsing entrance sent a rumble of shear horror through him. Two fingers were still pressed inside him, that much his wits allowed him to gather, but that was as far as Draco could bear to let it go.

“Stop.” He barked out. The minimal pressure of Harry's cock against him didn't fade, what did change however was the other man's proximity to him. Where before Harry had only had his hands on him, against the inside of his thigh and two fingers pressed inside him, now he shifted his body in close, pressing skin tight and trapping him against the bed.

“What?” Harry breathed, against the cleft between Draco's forearms which still hid his face. Such raw need, lust, power Draco had never before felt in one word. He let his hands drop away and saw nothing short of pure carnal lust in Harry's eyes and it burned him to deny such a fierce desire but....

“It just....doesn't...feel right.” Draco managed to enunciate. As if to entirely contradict him, Draco felt the blood in his groin pulse incessantly through his still fully erect member.

“Not yet.” Harry bit out. The was no frustration in his voice, though the words were sharp, and cut off. “At least give me a chance to make it good for you.” Harry whispered. His hair, slightly damp with sweat fell against Draco's ear as Harry spoke into the mattress next to it.

“I can't―”

Harry pulled his fingers out, but they did not shift far. Right against his perineum Harry placed his index finger and pressed. Draco bit his tongue and groaned, an almost pained sound. It was as though someone had taken a fuse and lit his nervous system on fire. The jolt was so unexpected that, as small as it was Draco felt entirely dazed in it's wake. And then it didn't stop. The sensation of having electricity running from the base of his balls all the way up his spine― only it felt so good.

“What?” Draco stuttered, enjoying the stimulation far too much to even dare to ask Harry to stop.

“It'll feel even better when I'm inside.” Harry murmured against his ear, licking the shell, tongue fucking the crevice as he spoke, being oh-so-maddeningly distracting. That. Was. It.

Draco caved. He wrapped one leg around Harry and pulled him in, crushing their crotches together, wincing and groaning in pleasure and pain as Harry's pelvic bone pushed in against his testicles. He twisted his hands into Harry's hair and yanked him in for a ravaging kiss, all teeth and hoarse grunts of pleasure.

“Fine.” He whispered harshly against Harry's lips, before nipping away the slight smile he felt forming against his mouth.

Harry's fingers pressing in were less discomforting in the wake of his acceptance, but only slightly. One hand spread his thighs slightly and Harry's very body pressed his legs open, curving his spine so that he was bent up against himself. Beyond that Harry didn't even give him a chance to think. Over the intruding fingers, and in one sure unyielding movement he thrust the head of his cock past Draco's clenched sphincter.

Draco grunted, the pain was a flash in the pan, a spasm that flared as Harry acquiesced his body to an extent and withdrew his two fingers. The tearing sting that curled up his spine was incomparable only in that Draco had never dreamed it possible to feel such a sensation of pain before. Even having been impaled by a metal rod hadn't prepared him for this. But then the two incidences were worlds apart. Where adrenalin and shock had carried him past the pain at first, soon it had become near unbearable. But as Harry forced the full length of his cock in past his clenching, resisting muscles Draco could feel his body adjusting, accommodating, overriding the pain he felt. It hurt. Just not in the way Draco had thought it would. The slow burning pain was anything but comfortable but it was far from unbearable.

A low gasp fell from Harry's lips as Draco's muscles rippled around his embedded member, and Harry quickly braced his hands on either side of Draco's head. The first stroke out was slow, and it built a steady pressure against his entrance, and Draco groaned as his insides cramped in an effort to aid the movement.

Draco felt his muscles squeeze tight and Harry moaned, his hips slamming forward and Draco gave a low shout of pain. The second thrust was no less painful than the first, and the third and the fourth no better. Harry seemed entirely capable of sliding in and out with a fluidity that contradicted, to every extent, the absolute foreign discomfort Draco felt. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he bit down against the bone of his wrist, trying to strangle the low sounds of pain that welled up in his throat. The back of his thighs ached with the effort of holding his legs against his chest, and he felt like he was being repeatedly turned inside out. Occasionally the cramping of his inner muscles aligned with Harry's thrusts and a slow sense of pleasure flooded him in those moments, a carnal relief, shattered by Harry's next and increasingly more forceful thrust.

When Harry's mouth closed over his he welcomed the distraction of the other man's tongue caressing the inside of his cheek, slow and methodical and everything the rest of him wasn't. And then the world, so perfectly crafted came to a jarring halt. The rock hard erection of Harry's was pressed halfway into him and Draco couldn't help but feel the way he was stretched around it's girth. His inner walls rippled in rejection of it and Draco groaned, a sound of frustration and pain.

Harry was gasping into his mouth then, his chest, slick with sweat was braced up by a hand that Draco didn't even remember moving. A few mumbled words filtered against his lips and Draco missed them entirely.

“What?”

“Turn over, I said.”

“Why?” This was starting to feel like some horrible nightmare.

“It will feel better. Trust me.”

Draco allowed Harry to pull away from him, shivering as his damp skin peeled away from Harry's overwhelming heat. Harry twisted out and with guiding hands pulled Draco to his hands and knees as he gingerly flipped himself over. Harry's one hand was pressed against his lower back, one knee braced on the bed next to Draco's left knee, the other leg flat on the floor giving him ample leverage. Harry slid his free arm along the length of Draco's and braced it there as a beam of strength for them both.

This time there was only a slow burn as Harry breached him and Draco shuddered because half way through the thrust his body flexed with a rumble of pleasure so sweet that he couldn't help the way his inner walls clenched in, pulling Harry's cock deeper.

“Better?”

“Fuck, yes.” Draco hissed between his teeth, his head dropping low as the pleasure sung repeatedly up his spine. Harry's movements then were strong and sure like the churning axles of a locomotive. His thrusts were deep and angled low and Draco shuddered with the shear force of them and felt his body melt with the cascades of sensation that rumbled through him.

Harry's gasping voice was constantly at his ear, low grunts, and breathless words, all so very meaningless and unheard as Draco lost himself. And each slam of Harry's hips just felt so right, and despite the fact that his knees ached, and despite the fact that each unbridled thrust of Harry's cock sent fresh waves of burning pain through him, Draco found himself unbearably hard and so very unconditionally at the brink of his orgasm.

The hand on his back snaked around and began to finger his shaft. Slow and uncoordinated at first and then in hard sure strokes. Draco found himself losing his control so absolutely as the urge to thrust into the tight channel of Harry's hand warred with the need to slam back to meet Harry's forceful pistoning hips.

Harry teeth sharp on the back of his neck had Draco groaning in the overload of sensations, his body tensed and his balls tightened and Draco couldn't help but crumple to his elbows. His shoulders jarred with the force of being repeatedly rammed into and Draco curled his hands in in the sheets in front of him, panting hard and fighting for every breath.

A low shouted curse and some unintelligible words later, Harry rocked his hips into him with a shallow downward thrust and held there, spinning small rough circles with his hips as his body shuddered with the force of his orgasm. Harry's hand pulsing reflexively hard around his cock as he came forced Draco over the edge. He came hard with a hoarse shout that was barely audible for the lack of breath in his lungs.

Moments later Draco came back to reality with Harry's sweaty, shuddering weight pressing against his half-collapsed form. The weight shifted as Harry drew back a little, placing a light kiss at the nape of Draco's neck as he gingerly pulled his still semi-erect cock from Draco's swollen, red entrance.

Without a word he heaved his weight over Draco's wearied form and collapsed against the left-most edge of the bed. When the breath finally settled in his lungs Draco dragged himself up on trembling hands and knees. Something rough pressed against the back of his right hand and Draco looked down to see his red and white boxer-briefs. Without hesitation he used the cloth to wipe himself down, gingerly swiping the material against the damp, stinging valley of his ass just once before crumpling the cloth and tossing over the edge of the bed.

In the silence Draco paused and took stock. He was beyond exhaustion― that was as far as his mind let him go. A low groan escaped his lips as he fell onto his side, curling into the less than heavenly embrace of the spring coils of the cot mattress.

The last thing Draco could discern was the solid press of a smooth, slightly sweaty back against his own, habitually weighing against him with the gentle expansion of Harry's lungs, constant.

-------

Consciousness came with the acute awareness of a catalog of aches and pains, several of which Draco had never even imagined possible. Laying on his back, more than content to simply not move, he instead enjoyed the sheer morning bliss of waking up without having to get up.

The sound of shuffling feet and a fly being zipped forced his eyes open.

Draco blinked. The light was still dull in the tent but there was a hint of morning light pressing outside the dark red tarp of the roof. Draco made a low noise in his throat and slowly ran his hands through the mess of his hair.

“You're awake then.” A gruff voice called out. Harry was standing at the very edge of the bed, his hair a right mess, clothed and looking fresh from a shower.

“I suppose.”

Harry's gaze was fleeting but hungry as it passed over Draco's prone and naked form then but despite the obvious morning wood and the unveiled lust in Harry's gaze Draco felt no uncomfortable flushing or rush of embarrassment.

“Ah, well, I have to go, message came in that they need me to take care of a couple of fellows that were dragged in last night in pretty bad shape.” Harry muttered, ruffling his still damp bangs as he offered up his explanation.

“Sure.”

“Er....you can stay as long as you need―”

“I'll catch another couple hours and then I really should report back to my post.” Draco answered, cutting off Harry's rather casual implication.

“Right then.” Harry turned to leave. “Mind that you don't get too roughed up out there just cause you fancy me patching you up, eh?” Harry had a hint of a smirk on his face as he strode across to the tent and out the door.

There was a thought. Draco heaved a low sigh and let sleep wash the notion from his mind as it embraced him, uninhibited, once more.


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AN: Er so I've been having at a bunch of different stories of late and I can't seem to finish very much at all. But somehow I had the drive to see this one-shot through. I hope it was a fun read.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

- Incessant_Darkness