Current mood:

horny

fic: The Afternoon Before the Morning After (NC-17)
The Afternoon Before the Morning After

It was past noon the next day when they finally roused themselves, and even then they didn’t move to get out of bed, save to use the loo, and once to retrieve the note that Kelly had slipped under the door while they slept, which granted them the weekend off, and warned them not to wear each other out too much, under which instruction she had drawn a little smiley face with a raised brow. Harry had never seen Draco blush before.

It wasn’t that they never made out in the morning. In fact, it was part of their usual routine, so much so that sometimes Harry thought they just did it out of habit. Once, Draco had kissed him for a good ten minutes before Draco was even really awake, which spooked Harry just a bit.
But it was different today. It was everything Harry had ever heard about kissing being in romance novels. It was slow, and tender, and each time Draco’s mouth sought out his own it was like the first time. Occasionally his kisses strayed from Harry’s lips, and landed on his temple, or below his ear, or lingered pleasantly on his throat, and his fingers curled sweetly in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck. Draco couldn’t seem to stop touching Harry, as if to reassure himself that he was really there, and Harry wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop. In fact, he wanted it to keep going and going, and allowed himself a long sigh and a shudder of pleasure when Draco pulled his pyjama top over his head.

*


Draco ran his fingers down the flesh revealed to him when he tossed the pajama top aside, stroking every bit of skin he could reach, lavishing Harry with attention. He was here. He was real. He was never doing anything like that again. Draco lowered his head to mouth across Harry’s collar bone, fingers dipping along his side, tracing over every inch of him. Never again, never again. Once again, he let their lips meet, worrying Harry’s bottom lip softly between his teeth before kissing him sweetly. So brilliant, so perfect, so Harry.

“Your breath reeks,” Draco whispered, kissing the spot on Harry’s neck where his pulse fluttered wildly. “Smells like you’ve been sleeping for two days straight. Oh wait, you have.”

*

“Yeah, well,” said Harry, as best he could with his mouth around Draco’s nipple, “you don’t exactly smell like a bouquet of flowers yourself.” He rolled Draco onto his back and straddled his thighs, continuing to tease, alternating between his nipples and his mouth. It was true. Draco smelled sweaty (and under that, there was a tantalizing citrus-y hint of the cologne he used obsessively), he clearly needed a shave (which was saying something, for Draco, because his facial hair grew in so light and fine), and he needed to brush his teeth as much as Harry did, but that, all of that, only made Harry squirm in delight, because it meant that Draco didn’t actually care how Harry saw him.

After some fumbling, he managed to divest Draco of his shirt (which was his own, he realized on a closer inspection, a relic of the Quidditch World Cup all those years ago), and sat back, panting.

“I…,” groaned Harry, “…you’re...,” and he leaned in to Draco’s mouth again, smiling, hoping that could convey what he seemed unable to.

*

Draco raked his fingers into Harry’s hair as he returned the kiss as best he could, practically panting for air already. When his lungs ached, he finally broke away, though he didn’t go far, nibbling along Harry’s jaw, ignoring the stubble prickling against his skin.

“I, you’re,” he mocked teasingly, dragging his teeth over Harry’s earlobe. “Articulate this afternoon, aren’t we, Potter?”

Through truth be told, he couldn’t care less about his speech patterns if Harry was speaking his own made up language. All he could focus on was Harry’s body pressed down against his, their chests together, skin against skin, a very nagging issue rocking against his thigh with Harry’s every move, and an issue of his own, trying to break free of his trousers.

*
“Nngh,” grunted Harry. Apparently his earlobe was intimately connected with the speech center of his brain, and having Draco nibble on it did little to improve his articulacy. He recovered just enough to say, “stuff it, Malfoy,” before Draco did it again and arched up against him, which made him see stars and lose all thought completely.
“Fuck, I –“ he groaned, scrabbling at the drawstring on Draco’s pyjamas, kissing him hard enough that he thought he tasted blood, “please.”

*

Draco’s stomach twisted and flipped and spun around willy-nilly until he told it to control itself, it was just sex. Of course, it wasn’t just sex, was it? His heart was pounding and his head was spinning, but there was something different about this, something soft and tender and this must be what making love felt like.

Draco nodded through the kiss, pulling back and licking his bottom lip where it had split slightly from the force. “I want you,” he pleaded softly, lifting his hips to aid in the removal of his pajamas. “Want you inside of me. There’s lube in the sock drawer. Please.”

*

Oh, thought Harry.
And he thought it again: Oh.

His head was spinning, but there was some part of his brain that had disconnected from his body and was floating somewhere above his bed, frozen in numb disbelief. He paused, and licked his lips, which suddenly seemed very dry, and croaked, “you…you want me to…?”
Harry found it vaguely silly that they were here, and doing this, and he still couldn’t say the word fuck to Draco; he blushed, and played with the button on his pyjamas. It wasn’t that he’d never thought about doing it this way, but he’d always rather suspected that Draco would be the one to have Harry on his hands and knees, and now that the moment was here, he couldn’t quite imagine it the other way around.

Carefully, he rolled off Draco, and lay down beside him, trying to catch his breath, willing his heart to beat just a little slower. Harry leaned over to kiss him as gently as he could, smiling a little at how apprehensive he looked, as if he was scared Harry was going to refuse his request.

“Okay,” Harry told him, suddenly feeling very apprehensive himself, “but you’re going to have to help me out. I’ve never…you know, I’ve never…”

*
“Never never?” Draco asked, lifting a hand to brush his fingers down Harry’s cheek and into his hair, curling into the soft strands. “Or never-with-a-bloke, never?” It didn’t matter either way. They’d go slow. Slower than slow. He wanted to feel every centimeter of Harry pressing into him, just the thought alone making his breath catch in his throat and his cock harden in anticipation. Harry probably wouldn’t last long. Not if Draco’s own experience with Daniel was anything to go by, and it shouldn’t be, because why was he thinking of Daniel in the middle of this? Not on. He forced his mind to pay attention to the matter at hand, running his hand through Harry’s hair until it came to rest at the back of his neck.

*

Harry turned his face into the pillow for a moment, though he shivered with pleasure at the feel of Draco’s hand in his hair.

“Never-never,” he said quietly, almost whispered. Virgin was another one of those words he couldn’t say. He felt naked (which was probably because he was, nearly), and inadequate; he probably wasn’t going to last very long, and Draco was going to think him even more of an idiot than he usually did.

This had all seemed so much easier when it was just misguided kisses and covertly-given hand jobs on a train.

*

Never-never. This was far from off-putting. In fact, Draco’s heart thumped faster in his chest, probably to send more blood to his cock, so hard it was almost painful. Harry’d never… And he wanted to. With him. Draco gently turned Harry’s face out of the pillow, pulling him into a slow kiss, shifting closer, if that was at all possible.

“The lube is in the sock drawer,” he repeated, stroking his fingers lightly down the back of Harry’s neck. “Should I get it?”

*

Virgin he might be, but Harry did at least have legs, and he was reasonably certain he could make them stop shaking long enough to make it to the bureau and back. He found the bottle under a pair of Slytherin-striped dress socks, and when he came back to bed he pressed it into Draco’s hand, managing to deliver a determined kiss to his mouth at the same time.

“Okay,” said Harry, taking a deep breath, “show me what to do.”

*

Draco smiled at Harry’s earnest expression, drawing him into another kiss, sweeter than the hard kiss he’d just received. Harry was rather perfect, wasn’t he now? Eager to please, like a Labrador puppy or something.

“Might help if we lose the clothes first,” Draco suggested, curling his fingers into the waist of Harry’s pajamas and tugging gently. They couldn’t very well do anything without a little more skin-to-skin contact.

*

“Right, yeah,” Harry gasped. “Naked.” He scrambled out of his pyjamas, and then his underwear. He felt slightly ridiculous being naked in front of Draco, especially in full daylight, because they were usually under the blankets, and in the dark, to boot, but considering what he was about to do, Harry thought he could let it go.

*

Draco pushed his pajamas and boxers down without ceremony, kicking them away and breathing a sigh of relief. Felt much better now to have his cock free from the constrains of his clothes. He ran his hand lightly down Harry’s side, over the slight curve of his hip, then around to his cock, stroking him slowly with a whispered, “relax.” It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he got all excited.

“Do you ever touch yourself when you jerk off, Harry?” he whispered, keeping his hand slow and steady. “Slide a finger inside? Maybe two?”

*

Harry groaned. It took everything he had not to buck into Draco’s hand and come right then, and they’d barely even started. Under normal circumstances, he would be embarrassed to hear Draco talk like he was doing now, but these were hardly normal circumstances, and Harry was about as far from embarrassed as he could get.

“N-no.” He hesitated, and then said shyly, “but I wanted to.”

*

“Now’s your chance,” Draco murmured, releasing Harry’s cock to hold up the bottle of lube. “Coat your fingers. You need to prepare me first. You can’t just shove it in, and if you ever try, I’ll probably kill you.” He unscrewed the lid of the bottle and curled his fingers around Harry’s wrist. Merlin, those fingers would be inside of him soon enough. Draco hummed, kissing Harry’s palm and pressing the bottle into his hand.

*

Harry nudged Draco up onto his hands and knees before slicking a few of his fingers with the lube. He circled around Draco’s entrance for a moment, and then slid one finger in with surprisingly little resistance. At Draco’s breathless direction, he moved it around, pushing and stroking, until Draco moaned in agreement and rocked back against him, at which prompting Harry tried a second. When he’d found a rhythm that suited them both, he tried a third, at which Draco veritably let out a guttural moan and dropped his head to the pillow, panting. At first Harry thought he’d gone too far and hurt Draco, but when he slowed his fingers Draco let out a stream of obscenity the likes of which Harry had never heard, and he got the general impression that he wasn’t to stop.

*
He wasn’t ever to stop, if Draco had any choice in the matter. They could just stay in bed and shag for the rest of their lives. That right there would be perfect. And that way, there was no chance of Harry disappearing without a trace ever again.

When it felt like he was going to explode into a million pieces, just from the strength of his arousal, Draco forced his head up, craning his neck to peer over his shoulder at Harry. “’Nough. Please. M-more lube, on you. Go slow.” As Harry reached for the bottle, Draco thought of something else that was probably even more important, and added, “And. Condom. Bedside table.”

*

If Harry had thought his self-control was being pushed to its outermost limits earlier, he wasn’t sure there was a definition for what he was feeling now. He felt he had to concentrate very hard on every little thing he did, on every movement he made, to keep himself from coming, and even that bit of restraint was threatening to up and leave him. He bit his lip as he rolled the condom down his aching prick, and smoothed a bit of the lube onto himself, fighting to keep his hands from shaking. He moved into a better position behind Draco, stroking his lower back as if to calm him, though if anybody needed calming at the moment it was Harry, then sliding his hands around to Draco’s slim hips. He set the head of his cock where his fingers had been only moments before.

“Okay?” He asked. When Draco nodded roughly, Harry gritted his teeth, and pushed forward, and – oh. Oh. Warm. Warm, and tight, and perfect in a way that his hand (and even Draco’s hand) would never be. Harry cursed, and eased in deeper, and when Draco made a soft sound of encouragement, he pulled back and pushed in again, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. This was good. This was really bloody good.

*


Draco should have felt foolish, on his hands and knees on the bed, arse up in the air as he rested his head on his folded arms, but he couldn’t feel anything other than the slow burn of Harry inside of him, the weight of Harry’s hand at the small of his back, the heat from Harry’s body sinking into his skin. “Fuck, Harry,” Draco moaned softly, squeezing his eyes closed and pressing his hips back. He snaked a hand down to curl his fingers around his own cock, tugging in time with Harry’s thrusts, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

*

He wasn’t going to last long like this. Maybe another minute or two, but it was all so much, and so overwhelming that Harry knew it was going to be over too soon. His rhythm was getting sloppy now, more erratic; he wanted to do something for Draco, but the heat was building in his body, and there was the familiar feeling, a peculiar tingle along his spine that meant his orgasm wasn’t far off, and it was all he could do to pay attention to the steady rocking movement of his hips.

“Shit, I -,” Harry muttered, “Draco, m’gonna….”

*

“Don’t,” Draco begged, the fingers of one hand curling tightly into the sheets as he stroked himself faster. “D-don’t, please, Harry. Just… just a bit… please…” Not yet, not yet. He wasn’t nearly close enough. Of course, that could be because the last time he’d had to touch himself was ages ago. Harry was usually more than eager enough to do it for him. And he was so used to returning the favor, that he could barely remember what he liked.

Oh. Well, that problem was easily solved. “Touch me.”

*

Through sheer force of will, Harry bent forward and slid his hand around Draco’s hip, coaxing Draco’s hand from his cock and sliding his own around it. It took a moment for him to find a stroke that suited them both, but after a moment Draco was moaning louder than ever, and Harry thought he was probably as close to coming as Harry was.
He wished there was a spell that could freeze them right here, right now, in this moment forever. His thighs burned and he felt like he couldn’t draw breath fast or deep enough, and he was sure Draco couldn’t be comfortable bent over like he was, but Harry thought to himself that he had never wanted anything so much in his life.

His lips were teasing at the nape of Draco’s neck, and if there were words in the constant stream he was babbling into Draco’s ear, it wasn’t any language Harry recognized. But Draco understood, or seemed to, and when his fingers laced through Harry’s, helping him stroke his cock, that was all it took for Harry to come undone completely, to give one last thrust inside him, and come with an almighty groan.

*

“Don’t stop,” Draco pleaded as he kept their hands moving over his prick. “Almost. All… Fuck… Harry.” He pressed his face into the sheets, whimpering as his cock twitched, his hips jerked, and he came long and hard. It felt like forever before he could actually lift his head to peer back at Harry through half-lidded eyes, breath still catching in his throat every so often.

Merlin, that was… Harry was amazing. Perfect. Perfect and fantastic and Draco was never letting him go. “Pull out slowly,” he murmured. “And hand me my wand so I can clean this up.” He lifted their hands, fingers still laced together, and licked a bit of come from Harry’s thumb.

*

Exhausted, Harry eased out of Draco and tiptoed over to the loo with the sheet around his waist to dispose of the condom. On his way back he snagged Draco’s wand, and handed it to him where he lay, looking very pleased with himself. A few waves of the wand and a muttered incantation rid them both of any lingering stickiness, and they settled back against the pillows with the blankets pulled over them, lazily trading kisses.

“Mmm,” sighed Harry after a few blissful moments, “can we do that again?”

*

“What, right now?” Draco asked, pulling away from where he’d been nuzzling contentedly at Harry’s throat to arch an eyebrow. “Couldn’t we please give my arse time to recover? Sex addict.” He’d be feeling it later as it was. Returning to his exploration of Harry’s neck with his tongue and lips, Draco closed his eyes, humming softly as he gave an experimental nibble. Really, he was quite content just to lay here like this for the rest of the day, or perhaps for the rest of their lives, but most definitely for another few hours at the least. “…Maybe tonight.”

*

Harry chuckled, and nipped Draco’s ear lightly. He was bloody tired, but already getting hard again at the mere memory of what they’d just done; he found, though, that he could will his erection away after only a few seconds of concentrating on a mental picture of Lord Voldemort in a tutu.
He nipped again, at which Draco gave the quietest of moans, and then told him thoughtfully, “you know, if I’m a sex addict, I rather think it’s because you encouraged me.” Draco grinned wickedly, and Harry chose that moment to roll over him again and kiss that insouciant smile off his lips. They snogged away quite happily for another couple of minutes before Harry came up for air and announced that he was really quite famished, and mightn’t they get dressed and kip over to the dining hall for a post-shag snack?

*

Draco rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like “sod food, just want to stay in bed all day,” but it would be rather unfair to Harry if they did that, seeing as he’d been missing for an awfully long time (twelve hours was horribly long), and he probably hadn’t eaten since then. So Draco sighed heavily and nodded, though he took his time dragging himself to his feet and over to his dresser for clothes.

“We could bring it back here to eat, couldn’t we?” he asked hopefully, glancing over his shoulder at Harry as he tugged on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “I’d rather like to keep you to myself seeing as we have the whole weekend.”

*

“Probably best if we did,” Harry replied, nodding sagely as he pulled his trousers on. “If we hang around too long, someone’s bound to notice that enormous love-bite on your neck.”

*

Draco clamped a hand over his neck automatically, narrowing his eyes. “Arse. Now I’ll have to wear a bloody glamour around until it’s gone.”

*

“Though I do like the way you look in a turtleneck,” said Harry blithely, not pointing out that he had several purplish marks along his own throat. With any luck, someone would think they’d been trying to kill each other, which wasn’t too far from the truth. “Look, are you coming or what?”
Draco grumbled all the way to the dining hall, but when they’d escaped without much incident, carrying several boxes that contained a delicious-smelling chicken curry with rice and steamed vegetables, as well as a tub of vanilla ice cream, he looked considerably more cheerful. They settled themselves back in bed wearing nought but their underwear to eat their feast.