Chapter Text
Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to read a story like this; been looking for it for a while now. But, I could never find anything just right. Then it occurred to me exactly how this story should go, so I sat down to write it. The majority of the story practically wrote itself inside a week.
Chapters vary widely in length, but will be posted weekly. The story is from Draco’s point of view, but for the most part, the camera only turns on when Harry is there too.
Draco’s Pov:
I was gleefully impaling myself on a nice hard shaft, when Potter started with his inane questions, “Hmm? What’s going on?” At least, that’s what I thought he asked. It was garbled with sleep, breathy with arousal, and ended with a long moan as I picked up the pace. If he was asking questions, we weren’t doing it right.
I snapped my hips and his eyes rolled back in his head. That was a good sign, so I did it again. One of his hands got in my way, trying to touch me or something, so I grabbed it and guided it to my hip, grinding down on that pleasantly fat shaft. The other hand managed to find my hip without my help, indicating that Potter wasn’t totally braindead. I mean, I was doing all the work. How was it so hard for him to keep his hands out of the way?
There were other inane questions too, like, “Is this a dream? I must be…oh yeah, just like that…dreaming,” and, “This is the craziest? Ooh ooh, wa, wait, slow down or I’m going to cum.” I took it as a sign to impale myself harder, really putting my weight into it, except I had to pull back when he said he was close.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh oh ohhhhh…” Another bit of genius from our savior, his eyes rolling back in his head and his cyclone of black hair flinging about on the pillow as he arched and thrashed his neck. What is with him and always being about to cum? You’d think with as famous as he was and as many people who wanted to fuck him as there were, he’d be a stud in bed. I mean, his cock was an above average length and thick enough to really feel it in all the right places, but how am I supposed to adequately enjoy it if he cums prematurely?
“You better not dare,” I warned as sternly as possible when I was this out of breath. Fucking myself was hard work and my chest was feeling the exertion.
“Sorry!” he shouted with a cry of pleasure and I could feel him ejaculating inside of me. Fucking useless Potter. Couldn’t even wait until I got mine. I felt like bashing him in the nose.
I sighed, lying down on his chest, trying to keep from dislodging his softening prick. Bashing him in the nose wouldn’t get his cock back up. My best bet was to check my temper and wait.
“Is this real?” Potter asked through droopy eyes.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up as soon as your cock gets hard again,” I said, raising a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.
“Promise?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are we going to have sex again in the morning?”
“It won’t take that long, but sure, we can do it in the morning too. We can do it as much as you like, if you get me off,” I reassured.
“How do I do that?” he asked innocently.
“Either you need to get an erection, or shut the fuck up. We’re not playing school here, Potter.”
Up until now, I hadn’t believed the accounts of him exclusively engaging in heterosexual activities. I mean, just look at him; he’s Potter. I’ve known he was bent ever since I caught him staring at my arse in sixth year. Sure I was well aware of how long he’d been with the Weasley chick and odds were he was one of the ones who could sleep with a witch when he had to, but it was clear from the beginning that there was no passion there. He was with Weasley for show. Maybe they were friends too and he thought she was safe. Maybe he even loved her in a way. But, he definitely was never in love with her. I’d know if he looked at her like that and he never had.
The way I figured it, Potter’s previous relationship with Weasley was meant to further his political career. He’d marry her as a trophy wife; you know, someone who looked good on his arm. Then he’d find some discrete tail to get off, being extra careful to keep it out of the public eye. They’d have some little Potter babies and he’d become Minister for Magic. That’s the way I would have done it if I were him. If the thought of fucking a witch didn’t make me want to puke.
When the announcement came that Weasley and Potter were splitting up, I naturally assumed that she decided she didn’t want to live that life. She wanted a wizard who loved her and a marriage with passion or something of the sort. I also recognized it as my chance to score with Potter, which was part of why I let myself into his place in the middle of the night.
Potter and I hadn’t spoken in years; not since the trials and the funerals ended. When I saw him in the streets, he barely gave me a passing glance. I doubted we’d get on any better now than we had in school, so I held myself back every time I got the urge to approach him. If he wasn’t going to notice me, I wasn’t going to let him know I noticed him. That’s why I decided to start with the sex. Depending on how the morning goes, it might just have to end with the sex too. But I was getting my proper fucking before I was leaving.
I drifted off for an hour or so, but then Potter rolled over on top of me. His weight on me was enough to break through my slumber and once I remembered where I was and what I was doing, I was instantly wide awake. His cock had slipped out and I could feel his jizz leaking out of my arse. I moved to correct the problem, but found myself pinned underneath him, so I pushed on his chest and bucked my groin up into him. His stomach was slick with my precum, left over from round one, and it felt good to move against him, so I did it again. After a few ruts, I was hard and grinding into him.
Potter moved, freeing my hands. Then he moaned and started moving his hips in rhythm with me, his cock coming into alignment with my own. His hard cock.
“Potter. Potter. Time to wake up, Potter,” I called.
“Hmm?” He cracked an eye open, but then closed it again.
“I promised to wake you when it’s time for sex. It’s time. You need to put your cock back in me now,” I instructed.
“Kay,” he murmured, but continued to rut against me. “Like this?”
“No, not at all like that. Pull up you moron,” I chastised.
“Hmm? Wha?” he asked, raising himself off of me with his arms on either side of me.
I pushed his chest and he rose further, going onto his knees between my legs. I spread my thighs and pushed off of the bed with my heels, to give him an easier angle for entry. But he was looking at me all dazed and confused with those sleepy green eyes of his, so I reached out and guided his shaft to my hole. “Push,” I instructed.
Potter listened, for once, his cock gliding into my wet and loose hole.
“You’re so wet for me,” he said stupidly.
“Yes Potter, I’m wet for you. It has nothing to do with the lube from round one or that you came in me already,” I said, pushing my body up against him, to get more of his cock in my arse.
“I’ve never had a dream like this before,” he said.
“Of course not,” I said, hitching my legs up, pulling them first towards my chest, to work them under his arms, and then up onto his shoulders.
Despite his protests, he seemed to know what to do from there. He grabbed my ankles and pulled, hooking them over his shoulders and eliciting a cry of pleasure from me as his cock sunk to the hilt inside of me. Then he lowered himself down onto me, forcing my thighs back to my chest, and shifting the angle until he was hitting my prostate.
“Oh, right there! Right there, come on, fuck me right there, Potter,” I encouraged.
He grunted, enclosing my body with his arms and snapping his hips. He started off slow, but with some encouragement fucked me harder and faster. His mushroom-shaped head seemed to have homing capabilities or something with the accuracy and precision he was hitting my prostate, quickly sending me into a state of ecstasy. And he was half asleep with his eyes closed too.
“Always takes too long to cum the second time,” he complained in between pants of breath about half an hour in.
I knew Potter was stupid, but that had to be the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard. There was no such thing as too long. Thirty minutes wasn’t even approaching a long fuck. It was the minimum length of time sex should ever be. It’s still in quickie territory, for Merlin’s sake. He must have serious premature ejaculation problems.
I would have told Potter how stupid he was, but in that moment, I was too busy holding on as he was ramming into me. He was so thick and had such good aim that every thrust had me gasping, a stab of pleasure coursing through my system. My cock was oozing a stream of precum with the perfect assault on my prostate. I barely even registered the stupidity of the wizard fucking me as my head spun and my climax approached.
I was enjoying myself so much that I didn’t clue him in or help him out. I didn’t reach down and tug one off, nor did I guide his hand to my cock. And he kept my legs pinned between our chests, over his shoulders, so I couldn’t grind my cock against him either. There was some friction against my head as he rocked into me, but not much. Not enough to make me cum.
Potter’s endurance wasn’t what it used to be, because he couldn’t hold the position for more than half an hour. He rose up on his arms and fucked me for another ten minutes like that, but instead of letting my legs up so that my cock could rub against his firm abs, he pushed my legs back onto my chest. My muscles were cramping, so I instinctively stretched out, finding his shoulders. That lasted only a few seconds before he grunted in annoyance and pushed my legs back towards my chest and pulled on my hips, to keep my arse curved up into the air, my body bent double. I got the hint and kept put; the position was pretty brilliant prostate-wise, so I couldn’t complain.
When he couldn’t keep up missionary any longer, he pushed and pulled my body, repositioning me on my side with only a grunt as explanation. He cuddled up behind me, pressing his body into mine, and fucking me from behind. Mentally, I gave him points for managing the shift without slipping out of me. That and he experimented with the new angle, even repositioning my legs and the bend of my spine, until I screamed out, his cock reconnecting with my prostate. Again my cock went untouched, but as long as the fucking was this good, I wasn’t going to end it.
Maybe Potter really had never had sex with a man. It was hard to believe given how good he was with working that cock, but then he never did reach down to stroke my cock. He didn’t seem to have a clue what to do to make it go faster and I could tell he was getting frustrated with how long it was taking, because he let loose more imbecilic comments about how long this was taking. Oh, he moaned and said I felt so good too, but he was clearly tired and not used to a proper shag.
He managed another forty minutes of good firm strokes on his side like that, before he turned us again. This time he pushed me flat onto my belly and pressed me all the way into the mattress, squatting as he thrust into me. This time my cock was trapped between my belly and the mattress, feeling every forceful thrust as he pounded me into the bed. This time I came, screaming my pleasure for all to hear, after only a minute.
Potter fucked me through my orgasm. He was good about it too, angling his cock all of the way into me and holding it for long beats as my arse clenched and unclenched around him. He kissed me too, turning his head to nibble on my bottom lip as I gasp for breath. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly cum any harder on that perfect shaft, it pulled most of the way out of me and rammed back in, snapping upward at the end of the stroke. That was the last thing I knew before my mind went blank with pleasure.
When I came down from my high, that cock was still pressing into me with a slow, hard snapping rhythm. It still felt perfect. It took me several minutes to realize that it was Potter fucking me and when I did, I let out a soft moan at the thought. Strictly speaking, I was no longer aroused, but the stretching sensation was warm and pleasant, sort of like scratching an itch. I began to squirm on that cock, each spot becoming over-sensitized as he thrust into it. It still felt good, too good even, but I couldn’t take it in the same spot twice, so I squirmed and wormed, tossing my head this way and that, as I shifted my hips.
“Cum already,” I ordered with a strained voice, not sure if I’d be able to find another spot for him to scratch if he lasted one thrust longer. Any moment now and it was going to be too much and I’d be screaming for him to stop.
“I’m trying,” he ground out between sharp snaps of his hips.
“Try harder,” I gasp, unable to wiggle around any further to a find a spot that wasn’t too much. Too much pleasure, too much pain.
“You do it, you git,” he said tersely, quickly flipping over.
My body was limp and exhausted from the sex and the orgasm, but his strong, persistent arms picked me up and sat me down on his lap. I groaned and lay my head down on his shoulder, not about to help him continue to fuck me. Merlin, I was so out of it, I barely registered what he was doing.
I felt his hands groping my arse, prodding my ballock, pushing, looking for my hole. “What’s this?” he murmured, palpitating my sack, my poor over-sensitized testes sending jolts of intense feeling through my body.
Instinctively I reached down and pulled his hand back.
“Oh, is that it?” he asked, flat of his fingers pressing against my hole. Then he was pushing in, first one, then four fingers.
I cried out with the sensation. I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but it was too much of whatever it was. My legs tried to crawl away from him, my boneless arms gripping his chest for leverage.
“Oh no you don’t. Come back here. Just a minute more, I promise, Love. Come on, there you go, just lie down on my chest. You can do it,” he coaxed, his fingers pulled from me in order to grab my shoulder with one hand and my hip with the other.
With his fingers gone from my body, the sensation ended and I fell back onto him. My mind was floating away in post-orgasmic bliss, so I didn’t notice as he pulled and tugged me back into alignment. I barely noticed the fluttering as the tips of his fingers explored my rim.
“All better, see? Just a minute more and then you can go to sleep. You’re so wet and loose you’ll barely feel it. Okay Love? You ready for me?”
I heard his voice, but it sounded far away. I didn’t respond.
“Come on, you didn’t let me sleep when you wanted to cum. It’s my turn. I need to cum inside you. I need to, so bad. You feel so good. I’ll cum this time, I promise,” he continued, pressing his lips up into mine, kissing me softly in between each sentence. It was nice, his kisses; soft and sweet and gentle.
And then I felt something that sent a jolt of pleasure through my body, but from my nipples this time. He was stroking my right nipple in soft, circular strokes. I felt them hardening, peaking into his hand and I moaned in pleasure. This was a place where the itch could still be scratched. He caught on and stroked the other one two, each arm bent out at the elbows to reach.
“See? You can do it. That’s feels good, doesn’t it, Love?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” I agreed.
“And my cock will feel good inside you, won’t it?” he asked another.
I didn’t know the answer, so I let out an indifferent grunt.
“Won’t it feel good? I can fuck you again and you can cum again,” he suggested. “You like double orgasms, don’t you?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. Neither did he. In hindsight I decided he thought I was a girl or something, after Pansy told me that girls are capable of double orgasms.
“Are you ready for my cock? Do you want me to keep going?” he asked.
In my sex-addled state, I thought he was asking if I wanted the sensation on my nipples to keep going. “Mmm-hmm,” I agreed.
But that must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because he immediately left my nipples, both hands traveling to my arse. The fluttering sensation was back around my rim. Then it was harder, stretching out my rim. It was an itch he hadn’t scratched yet. I moaned loudly. He pushed one finger in and I squirmed. One wasn’t so bad; not too much. It was good, but not too good.
“You’re going to ride me again, Love, alright? I just fucked you for over an hour, it’s your turn. Can you sit your arse down on my cock? You’ll like it, I promise you will,” he coaxed.
I raised a hand to my nipple, stroking it, trying to show him what I wanted.
“I’ll stroke your nipples again if you sit on my cock,” he bargained.
I continued stroking my nipple lazily. It felt good and his finger stroking my arse felt good too.
“Come on love, you can do it. Just sit your perfect round arse on my cock. It’s your turn. I fucked you, now you have to finish fucking me,” he reasoned.
I groaned, too limp to move.
He pulled his finger out, both hands going to my hips. “Alright, I’m going to help you. Here, just get into position.” He pushed and tugged, until he had me where he wanted me. “There you go.” One hand left my hip for a moment and I felt something pressing into me. Something broad and wide; not a finger this time.
I jumped, limbs scrambling to get away, but two strong hands were on my hips, forcing me down. “Too much,” I complained.
“Shhsh. You can do it. You did it before, didn’t you? All you have to do is start riding me again and I’ll stroke your nipples. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, hands tight against the top of my pelvic bone, gripping me hard.
I groaned in protest, arms and legs failing me. I managed to get up into a sitting position, but that just forced the cock further into me. I was so sensitive. It was good, but too good, too soon. I arched my back, grabbing behind me, trying to find a position that would be alright. My noodle like legs bucked up in a spasm, as I fell backwards. I caught myself on my arms in sort of a reverse pushup, but with my knees bent and my feet on either side of his body.
“Ah, yeah, Love, there you go. You can do it like that. This is perfect,” he said, repositioning his hands on my hips to accommodate the new position.
“Ughhh.” I struggled to push myself up, trying to get vertical again, so I could push off of him. But I could only go so far with his hands on me like they were. The movement sent jolts of sensation through my body and I couldn’t keep going. I fell backwards again, back arching as my hand failed to stop my fall this time. It was too much.
“That’s good, you’re doing fine, just try again,” he urged, tugging on my hips.
I tried to get up one more time and fell back one more time. This time I didn’t move at his urging. I just twisted to my side and lay there.
“Ohhhh, yeah. You feel so good,” Potter moaned as I turned. “Alright, you can lie there, but try turning to the other side.”
I did, thrashing from side to side for a minute, trying to get the angle inside me just right to relieve the intensity of it all. But it didn’t work. Thrashing made it worse and I tried to climb up off of him again.
“Alright, come back here. Just lay on my chest this time, alright?” he suggested as he pulled me up and then down, onto his chest.
He was still in me. His hands were still on my hips. He nudged my legs and told me to pull them up underneath me. I did, squatting over his lap, still impaled. I wondered then why I couldn’t get off this cock. It was too long or too wide or something. Maybe Potter had too much practice riding a broom to get bucked off. Obviously I’d miscalculated earlier when I thought he wasn’t skilled at sex. He could be when he wanted to. He wanted it now.
“Is that better?” he asked, gently thrusting his hips up into me.
“Ugh,” I said non-committedly.
“You can stay lying there, just like that. You feel so good. Hot and tight,” he said, gently rolling his hips with each word.
I thought I felt dry. The cum and lube from earlier had all but been used up, thick and sticky and pulling on the cock as it thrust in and out.
“Mmm-hmm,” I agreed, because after the ordeal of changing position, this gentle fucking didn’t seem so bad. It was sort of soothing. And without more lube, I instinctively knew I needed to stay put, or he would hurt me.
“Good. I’m glad we’ve settled that.”
“Mmm.”
“If you promise to stay put this time, I’ll stroke your nipples again. Would you like that?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I agreed, too tired to fight him on it. My stomach was sort of spasming with his thrusts, the muscles in my legs randomly jerking out or contracting in; the sensation had left my arse and traveled to my body. It felt like all of the tension in my bones was being released, distracting me from how over-sensitized I was.
And then the pressure was gone from my left hip and the delicious stroking of my left nipple was back. It felt good and I moaned, my arse clenching tight around the thick pole.
“You like that, hmm?” he asked and I moaned, to let him know that I did. He kept stroking. “See, all you have to do is stay put and I’ll make you feel good. You can cum on my cock again anytime you want. You feel it, inside you?”
I felt it to the roots of my hair and the tips of my toes. It was in me, hard and hot and rolling in a gentle rhythm. It was stroking my nipple with one hand and my back with the other. It was cupping my arse and pulling me down, impaling me, splitting me open with its length. “Too big,” I complained.
“No, it’s just right. You’re doing just fine. You’re going to come again and then you’ll feel good. I can see your body twitching; that’s a good sign. You’ll be coming on my cock again in no time.”
He showed no sign of stopping and it occurred to me that there was a big puddle of lubrication smeared all over my stomach. I reached down, scooped up some of my cum, and reapplied it to my arse.
“What are you doing?” he asked. I said nothing, figuring he’d put two and two together when his cock slid in easier. “Oh, good job. Smart thinking, Love.”
I went back for more, repeating it until I had as much lubrication in the right area as I could get. That eased a lot of the intensity, shifting me firmly back into the feeling good range.
“You feel nice and wet again. I guess that’s how it works with you, Love?” he asked, another indication that this was his first time with a man. Still, he should have at least known that he had to add lube; he really was stupid sometimes.
“Mmm-hmmm,” I answered, as sarcastically as I could manage after being fucked for an hour and forty-five minutes straight.
“You ready to ride me now?” he asked, reaching a second hand up to my other nipple. “I’ll do both nipples if you ride me.”
My arse clenched in pleasure, my dick stiffening a bit, but was not anywhere near ready to regain a proper erection.
“Come on, you can do it,” he urged, stilling his hips to give me a chance to get up.
When I moved, his hands were there on my chest, supporting my weight. I sat most of the way up, his cock plunged in to the hilt, his palms flat against my chest, and moaned as the tips of his fingers brushed against my nipples in a circular motion.
“There you go. Ride me,” he insisted and I complied.
The muscles in my abs undulated as my hips rolled forward and backward, my spine arching in rhythm. I didn’t move much or fast, just luxuriating in the feel of his fingers on my nipples and his cock in my arse. I was too tired to even attempt an up and down motion, or even a proper back and forth, so I stuck to rolling my hips and my little movements.
“Oh yeah, just like that, oh, oh oh…” And then Potter stopped stroking my nipples, hands grabbing my hips as his hips snapped up. Suddenly he was fucking me hard and sharp and fast from underneath me, in an erratic rhythm that bespoke of how close he was.
My muscles spasmmed all over my body, from my neck to my toes, as I was forcefully impaled. My eyes were rolling back in my head, my hands scrambling for purchase, my legs kicking out, trying to climb off, but I couldn’t climb off. My movement was too uncoordinated. I rose a couple of inches off of the spurting cock and then Potter’s hands were pulling me back down and his hips were snapping back up. I got further up; I could feel the base of his head stretching the skin above my rim, almost to the point where he’d pop out if I moved. Then I slipped and fell back down, hot, wet cum dripping out and down my arse, to my thigh. He pulled my hips down further, rolling up into me and hitting my prostate in the process. My over-sensitized prostate that had already taken too much abuse tonight from that blasted cock.
My arse muscles clenched down, trying to force the intrusion out. I went limp, stomach too sore to stand to struggle any longer, letting my forearms fall to his chest and my head fall to my hands. I pushed with my arse, unable to stop myself from doing it. It made the feel of his cock so all-encompassing that it blocked out the pain in my abs. It also made Potter stop fucking me. He just held onto my hips and let his jizz spill out into me, eyes rolling back in his head and neck arching.
When he finally finished and came back to his senses, he moved his hands from my hips to my back, holding me tightly to his chest and he kissed my lips softly. “Oh Love, you were so good. I’ve never felt something like that. What are you doing, exactly?” Present tense, because I was still doing it.
I squirmed. I wanted him out, but he was holding me too tight to move. Then he was softening, the cock inside me going away slowly. It was then that I realized what I was doing and forced myself to stop. I wanted him in me; that was why I’d come here tonight. Pushing his seed out would ruin everything. I switched to pulling him in, willing with whatever wandless magic I possessed for him to stay inside me, for his semen to stay in me, for it to take. I wanted this. And there was no telling if I’d ever get this chance again.
“I never knew you were so perfect, Love. I always thought…but tonight…two hours inside you. I’ve never been inside a man before, but it was sort of the same…just better. So much better. If I’d known it’d be this good…” Potter babbled.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” I ordered. We weren’t dating, so it wasn’t my job to listen to his drivel. It was all post-coital sappiness, which he’d take back in the morning, so I tried not to let it warm my heart. I did my best to let it go in one ear and out the other. Too bad that was always so hard with Potter. He had a way of getting under my skin. Now it seemed he was trying to worm his way into my heart. I didn’t want him there, I just wanted his seed to take. At least, that’s what I told myself.
“Alright. You’re tired, hmmm? I fucked you so good you can barely move, hmmm?” he continued. I pressed a finger to his lips to shut him up. Who knew he was such a blabber.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted too. Do me a favor and don’t wake me up for another round until morning, Love.” And then he pressed one last kiss to my lips and closed his eyes.
I smiled and closed my eyes as we drifted off to sleep together.
Author’s Note: Next chapter we’ll find out what’s going on. Harry will get key answers to important questions, like what is Draco doing in his bed and how did Draco get in his house.
Your reviews are greatly appreciated. Despite having most of the story worked out, there are still bits that need writing and plots that need tweaking. Your input is vital for that process.