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[personal profile] dicta_contrion
Title: Endowment (Part 1/2)
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11k
Warnings/Enticements:hung!Draco, bottoming-virgin!Harry, oral sex, anal sex, fingering, comeplay/post-sex fingering, super mild dubcon in that Draco talks Harry into something, dirty talk
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] disapparater for the beta-ing and britpickery!
Summary: Potter has got under my skin for far too long, in far too many ways. I fully intend to return the favour.

Dear, dear [livejournal.com profile] gracerene,
Sharing a fandom with you is such a joy. Your comments, your recs, your fic, your posts on lj and tumblr, the very fabulous postcard from Tasmania that's decorating my refrigerator, your lovely brunch company. I'm so happy I've gotten to know you! So when the lovely [livejournal.com profile] nia_kantorka organized a birthday event to celebrate your awesomeness, I was fully on board. "I'll just hammer out some porn!" I thought. Ha. Best laid plans, right? Erised kicked into high gear, and then RL, and then dracotops, and, well, keeping things short has never really been my forte. A new plan was hatched: half-birthday porn! So today, on the occassion of your half birthday, I offer you birthday porn, with interest. I hope I've managed to hit some of the right spots, and that you enjoy. Most of all, thank you for being such a brilliant, kind, thoughtful, fantastic person. Here's to a wonderful, exciting half-year to come!! ♥♥

Below on LJ, posted in its entirety on AO3


Endowment - Part 1

Potter’s always been a bit of a tight-arse. What was true at 11 is no less true at 21.

It is, however, far more literal.

I had assumed, at first, a simple prudishness at the root of his reluctance to take a finger or two. His Muggle upbringing, perhaps, or an adolescence subsumed by war and without the benefit of weekends in the Slytherin common room.

That theory is long since disproven. He loved my hand slipped down the front of his pants at a Muggle club. Loved it even more in the loos at the fourth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Loved my lips wrapped around his cock in an alley behind the Leaky at one of their Friday night Auror drinks things. Loved me whispering filth to him when he finally dropped to his knees and reciprocated on the landing outside my flat.

I loved it too. All of it, but none so much as that first glint of curious fear in his eyes when he took my prick from my robes in the dim light of the hallway and properly saw it.

He’d felt it, of course. I play a long game, not an unselfish one. But whether due to adrenaline, Firewhisky, or both, his drunken fumbling had never captured the size of it. How could it? I’m longer than his fist, thicker than the circle of his fingers. Big enough to elicit that unmistakable, bug-eyed, open-mouthed moment of alarm.

Such a Gryffindor, Potter is. Until the very end. Until the skin at the juncture of his lips was straining, until I felt his throat convulse against my tip, until he gagged down the better part of a thick load and pulled back coughing with thin, white, spit-diluted strands sliding from the corner of his mouth.

Shortly thereafter, I found what eluded even the Dark Pillock: a limit to Potter’s reckless bravery.

He was pressed to the wall, pants around his thighs, prick heavy in my hand, my spunk still scenting his breath. I had a solid grip on his arse, all firm muscle, tense and shaking. He didn’t pull away. No, not until I slid a finger down the crevice of his arse and pressed against his hole.

I might’ve thought he was bucking into my fist, but Potter is not the first man to pull away from these advances. In their fits of locker room envy, no one considers the drawbacks to an endowment like mine. But I have become familiar with the shy dismissals, the conciliatory hand jobs, the “why don’t we instead”s. That I thought better of Potter would be a testament to my own stupidity, if he wasn’t going to follow through.

If.

But Potter has got under my skin for far too long, in far too many ways. I fully intend to return the favour.

We have rarely found ourselves in a bed. Our sort of arrangement doesn’t lend itself to that sort of thing. There was the impulsive rental of a room following another Friday night alley rendezvous, when Potter proved himself a decent, if nervous, top. The illicit usage of the Granger-Weasley’s marital bed, when Potter proved himself decent with a cleaning spell. Once, his own bed, when he Apparated us out of a Muggle club and claimed my arse again.

There may be an element of intrigue, then, in my invitation. I hope so, as I wait for him, Scotch in hand. Though whether this missive holds any particular interest for him depends almost entirely on whether he’s recognised the address. My address.

When he tumbles out of the Floo, his outfit suggests that he hasn’t. He’s dressed for a club, tight jeans and barely there tank and the hideously worn leather jacket he insists on wearing, which he claims is vintage and which is, to its credit, softer than silk against bare skin.

The fleeting look of surprise confirms it. The uneasy shift. The way he cards his hair as he takes in the room. The nervous laugh. “Nice club.”

He hasn’t expected this, then. Hasn’t ever thought to look up my address. My stomach twists. I’m all too happy to ascribe it to the Firewhisky.

“Very exclusive.” I lift my glass in salute and take a slow sip. I want to watch him assess the room. See if he figures it out.

It’s a pleasure he denies me. He has eyes for my trousers, my dress shirt, for the two buttons I’ve left undone and the skin between them. Perhaps I should be unsurprised that his attention doesn’t extend to impeccable interior decorating.

His attention turns to my glass. “Where’s the bartender?”

I smirk, spread my hands. “At your service.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask what I want?”

“You assume I don’t already know.”

He smirks. I let him.

We lock eyes across the rug. I count to ten, then stand. “Ogden’s, 12 year, rocks?”

He looks up from my trousers to my face.

“Ogden’s, 12 year, rocks,” I repeat. “That’s what you want.”

“Right,” he answers. “Sure it is.”

I focus on the drink. The smell of the whisky, the cracking ice. Potter’s eyes flitting up from my arse when I turn around to hand it to him.

“Thanks.” He brushes his fingers over mine as he accepts the glass. “Didn’t know you were moonlighting.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“As ever.” His gaze flickers to my trousers, just for an instant. Long enough for me to notice, briefly enough to guess that he didn’t mean for me to. “So, why the change of pace?”

“Some things are best accomplished in filthy Muggle back rooms. Others are not.”

“What, time for some wizard’s chess?”

“I’ve rather a different sort of game in mind.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Gobstones?”

“Hardly.” I cross my arms. “Pin the tail on the saviour.”

He laughs. “Brought me out for a secret kid’s party? Kinky.”

“Yes, obviously. It’s in the bedroom, if you’d like to see for yourself.”

He drains his glass and moves to set it next to the bottle. “Lead the way.”

At least he’s not feigning innocence.

I’ve prepared the bedroom in advance. My bedroom, rather than the guest room. I want to remember Potter’s arse laid open for me every time I lay my head down. He doesn’t need to know that, nor see the trinkets that would’ve given it away, now safely stashed in trunks and wardrobes. All he needs to see is the four poster and, perhaps, the chest at its foot.

I hold the door for him. He steps through. Takes it in. Turns to me with a maddening smirk and mock-surprise. “There aren’t any children here, Malfoy. Where’s the party?”

His wrist is thick and tenses instinctively when I wrap my fingers around it, guiding it to my flies. “Here.”

“Want me to pin your tail?”

“No.” I take a step forward, fingers tightening around him. “Exactly the opposite.”

He steps back. “Nice try.”

“Who said anything about trying?”

“That’s all you’re going to be doing.”

I press myself against him, free hand drawing him closer by the belt loops. His breath smells of whisky, his neck of fresh aftershave. “That so?”

“Ye—” the word starts decisively enough. My teeth set against his jaw slow it considerably. “Yeah,” he breathes.

Debating has never been his forte. More a man of action. It makes him terribly predictable. I bite down, then lick the toothprint I’ve left behind. Move down his neck. Repeat. Repeat. Slip his jacket off his shoulders. He tilts his head, exposing the pulsing vein at the base of his throat.

Releasing his wrist, I turn my fingers to better purposes. The thin cotton of his top hides nothing. His nipples have made themselves apparent and he presses his groin towards mine when I pinch one, giving it the slightest twist and waiting for the throaty moan that follows.

“Fuck, mmm, Malfoy.” His eyes are closed, his voice is low, his neck arched. I reach for the other nipple. He presses into the touch, gasps out, “Still not gonna fuck me.”

“Why’s that?” The question is directed to his clavicle, and goosebumps spring up where my breath leaves its mark.

“’Cause no,” he breathes, pushing my hand towards his waistband.

“Not an answer.”

“No,” he admits, his eyes still closed.

“Tell me.” I slip my hand into his waistband and slide it round the back, dipping down to cup his arse.

He jerks, eyes flaring open. “No,” he repeats.

“Why not?” It’s almost a pout, and I know it. Poor strategy; I know that too.

He jerks his wrist free and crosses his arms. I feel the space between us acutely. I hope he does too.

“That’s not what I do.”

“Not what you do?” Indignation may not be ideal either, strategically, but it’s certainly genuine.

“It’s, er,” he mumbles, looking down. “It’s gross.”

“It’s gross?” Strategy is barely hanging on. “It’s gross.” I take a step back. “You’ve no problem sticking your prick up other men’s arses, but it’s gross when yours is on the line?”

“I don’t—” he stops, turns away. “Whatever. No.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t. Just don’t, okay?”

“You don’t fuck other men’s arses?”

He ignores me. The hot twist of anger in my belly coils, ready to strike. “Do you let them fuck yours? Is it gross when it’s their cocks? Their side-of-the-light, non-Death Eater pricks pounding into you?”

“No!”

I want to vomit. To leave him covered in it, the bastard.

He looks up at me and he’s wild-eyed, suddenly, gripping my shirt, grabbing my jaw and pulling my face in line with his. “No, No— that’s not. It’s not that, fuck, it’s not that.”

“Not what? Not that—” I can’t finish. I won’t give him this particular ammunition. Let him say the words himself.

“No, no, Malfoy. It’s not— I don’t care— no, it’s not that I don’t care, but I know you’re not, that it’s not that you’re.” He stops. Takes a deep breath, trying, I suspect, to tame the feral panic in his eyes. “Therearenoothermen.”

“What?” I don’t know if I need to hear it again. I don’t know if I’ve even heard it correctly the first time.

He grits his teeth. “There are no other men.”

“What do you mean, ‘There are no other men’?”

“There. Are. No. Other. Men.”

“Right now?” Surely, he’s plenty of suitors. I’ve seen him at the clubs, seen how they fall all over him.

He whispers so quietly I barely make him out. “Ever.”

“Women, then.” It’s not an idea I particularly enjoy, but it’s the only feasible answer. “You fuck women.”

He shakes his head.

“Women fuck you?”

He snorts, shakes his head again.

“Yes. Yes, there are women. There have been women.”

Again, he shakes his head, this time with his eyes cast to the floor.

Merlin. “There haven’t been women.”

Intent on his shoes, he barely manages a nod.

“Or men.”

The slightest bob to indicate his agreement.

“There hasn’t been anyone?”

A shake of his head, just barely.

“Except…” I can’t say it; can’t even entirely comprehend that fucking my arse is the only sort of fucking he’s done. “Ever?”

He looks up. I expect demure. He’s always confounded my expectations. As he’s doing now, with his blazing eyes, with his sudden fierceness. With his virgin, untouched, fucking arse. “No. Happy?”

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. I’m almost too shocked to find it rude.

“And there won’t be.”

I scramble for a response. Something to change his mind. If I wanted his arse before…well. The only thing that comes to mind – that makes it through this suffocating haze of lust – is an awful line. Overused. “How do you know you won’t like it, if you’ve never tried it?”

It would be predictable to anyone who’s ever tried to wrangle a bit of straight arse. But, I realise, that’s not Potter. Potter, who is, at least momentarily, visibly perplexed by the question. At last, he mumbles, “Just do.”

“And when you’re on the giving end?”

“I—” He frowns. “I don’t know.” A shrug. “Feels all right, I guess. You’re very clean.”

I swallow my outrage at that “all right.” If he’ll only say my arse is all right…well, it’s a good thing I’m a man on a mission. “You’re telling me you don’t want to be fucked because you lack proper hygiene?”

“No! That’s disgusting.”

“And, I suspect, untrue.”

“Definitely.”

“So then why?”

He pauses, looks away.

It hits me all at once. “You’re scared.”

“No!”

“Yes, you are.” Gloating is even more disastrous than pouting, but I simply can’t help it.

“No way!”

“Prove it.”

He freezes as though he’s been petrified.

“Prove it, Potter.”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t know. You have no idea.”

He shrugs. Not exactly a concession, but I’ll take it.

I step closer. “You’re not even curious?”

He shrugs.

“You’ve never wondered what it would be like?” I lean in, put on a throaty whisper. “Never wondered what it feels like when you’re pounding in to me?”

“No,” he says, and the syllable is broken in half when his breath catches.

“Never even, for a second, wondered why I come so hard with your cock up my arse?”

He swallows audibly, and remains stock still otherwise.

“Never wanted to know how it feels to be so full there’s no room left for anything but pleasure?”

His breathing is shallow.

“I think you have.”

His shrug is so tiny I almost miss it.

“I could show you, you know.”

He shrugs again.

“Could show you right now. Could open you up so sweetly you’ll forget your own name.”

He shivers.

“Fill you so slowly you’ll be begging for more.” I nip his earlobe. “If you get on the bed.”

His voice is scratchy, barely a whisper. “What?”

“Get on the bed.”

He looks to it, back to me. I do my best to look reassuring. He’s wary, but he’s not running.

And then—he doesn’t meet my eye, but he does it. Steps away, and perches on the edge of the mattress.

I come to stand between his spread knees and card a hand through his hair, bringing it to rest on his shoulder. He leans in to my touch. “Take your top off and lie back.”

He looks up, alarmed.

I crook a finger under his jaw and tilt his eyes up to face mine. “Trust me.”

He doesn’t look away, even as he slips the thin cotton over his head. As soon as it’s off, he’s holding my gaze and begins to lie back. He crosses his arms behind his head, aiming for some sort of a challenge. He succeeds, though I’m loath to admit it. He looks as accusatory as he does trusting.

Best not fuck this up, then.

I break eye contact first. Drop to my knees in front of him, hands on his thighs, and nudge his legs apart. He tenses under my palms. I run my hands over the muscle, stopping on his waistband.

He inhales when I reach for his flies, arching so his stomach drops away from my fingers. It only makes my work easier. The button pops open easily, the zipper follows, and he lifts his arse to let me bring his pants and jeans down his legs together.

He’s more than half hard, prick lying swollen across his thigh. With his clothes around his knees his arse is hidden by shadow and his cock is out of mouth’s reach. I grip his calves, massaging my way towards his ankles, then pulling off one shoe, the other, his jeans, his pants.

Suddenly, I’m faced with his knees. He’s staring up at the ceiling, away from me, with his legs closed to hide any hint of his hole.

Maddening. Maddening fucking tight-arse Potter.

I slide a hand over his kneecaps, attempting to tease them open. He tenses.

If I can’t get a fingertip between his knees, getting my cock into his arse seems Herculean.

But then, his prick isn’t between his knees. He jerks when I take it in hand, suffocating a moan into the thinnest of whimpers.

He’s heavy and warm against my palm, and he responds in spite of himself. His mouth falls open before his knees do. He breathes deeply, and the tension in his legs falls away. When I lean forward, he lets me in. First to nip at the inside of his knee, then to trail kisses up his thigh, until he’s spread open well enough for me to mouth at his bollocks. It’s something he loves, and something the circumstances of our encounters doesn’t often permit.

He’s torn between disappointment and desire when I take his cock in my mouth. It’s the perfect excuse to drop a hand to the base of his shaft, then lower, cupping his balls, rolling them in my palm as I suck him down.

Any pretence of restraint has disappeared. His hips buck into my mouth, the head of his cock butting against my throat as he descends into abandon.

The ideal, moment, then.

My hand drops lower still, and lower, until it’s the back on my knuckles rubbing against his bollocks, until I run my thumb over his cleft.

He freezes.

Fuck.

I relax my throat, try to take him down. Something that usually undoes him, and it has no effect.

I press my thumb against him again. He jerks off the bed. I pull away.

“Potter,” I start, trailing off into a sigh.

He’s covered his face with his hands and refuses to respond.

“Potter,” I shake his knee. “Come out of there.”

He shakes his head furiously.

“You’re making it rather difficult to proceed.”

The look he gives me is so withering as to kill the average house plant, but at least he’s looking.

“When I let you fuck me—why?”

“What?” Confusion supersedes his scathing stare.

“When I let you fuck me, did you think I was being magnanimous? Some sort of arse-first charity project?”

His confusion escalates to bewilderment. “I...um.”

“Because I assure you, Potter, Malfoys don’t do charity unless there’s something to be gained.”

“Then...why?”

“I’m trying to show you.”

“That…it really feels good?”

I fail to suppress an eye roll. “No, I was faking it. I’ve ridden your prick as simple courtesy because I’m such a giving, generous sort of a wizard.”

He frowns. “No need for sarcasm.”

“No,” I agree. “No need for any sort of talking at all, if you’d just turn over.”

“Turn...?”

“Over.”

He stares at me. Between us, his cock twitches. Interesting. “Over?”

“Yes.”

“Just…?”

“It’s not Arithmancy, Potter. On your stomach.”

He gives me a last, sceptical look, and turns, sliding up the bed so that only his toes hang off the edge.

Potter’s body is a thing of beauty. I’d always thought he’d be scrawny; perhaps the impressions of our youth don’t leave us as easily as we might like. But three years of Auror training – and, I suppose, a war – have done well by him. His arse is firm and high, his waist trim, back muscled, his legs toned. I’ve never had the opportunity to take him in like this.

“Malfoy?” He mumbles it over his shoulder, his voice tinged with barely concealed nerves.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Are you going to...you know?”

“You’ve got a magnificent arse.” I don’t mean to say it. It just...slips out.

“Um,” he mutters, and he tightens it without realising. Merlin help me, it’s got dimples when he does that. “I...yeah?”

“Mmm. Yes.” I slide a hand up his calf. “Lovely.”

“Um, thanks,” he replies, and buries his head in his elbow.

It takes a good deal of effort not to stare at him. The scrutiny clearly makes him nervous, but oh, it’s a delight. I feel myself, perhaps unwisely, beginning to hope that these proceedings will mean more opportunities to look. Many more.

He wiggles, settling himself into the duvet. It’s a useful reminder, intentional or not, to get down to it.

I slip a knee into the space between his calves. Rest my hands on the backs of his legs. Rake my nails up his thighs.

He shivers. He doesn’t pull away.

I take him in my hands now. Properly, in my hands. Not a quick squeeze in an alleyway. No turning away. His back tightens and I hear him hold his breath, but he doesn’t move. Lets me rest a palm on each side, squeeze his cheeks so I can feel the shape of them, feel his flesh and muscle under my palms.

Slowly, so as not to spook him, I begin to knead. His arse is so firm, so perfectly round. And as I work the muscle, I begin to pull his cheeks apart.

If he notices, he doesn’t protest. Doesn’t make a sound, though I feel some answering pressure as I work his arse.

This tiny indication of approval almost disappears when I pull him far enough apart for him to feel it. He jerks away from me.

“Potter,” I soothe - or try to. “I won’t hurt you.”

He nods, mumbles something mostly indiscernible into his elbow.

“That’s it,” I answer, rubbing the backs of his thighs. “Relax.”

He pokes his head up just far enough for his mouth – his flushed, plump mouth – to pull clear of his arm. “Just tell me, okay?”

“Tell –” I realise what he means and am rather glad he can’t see my smile. “Of course. I’ll tell you. Just relax.”

“No surprises.”

“No surprises,” I agree. “I’ll tell you. If you’ll relax.”

He takes a deep breath, nods, and turns back into his arms.

“And if you’ll do as I say.”

He freezes, then. The moment seems to last forever. And then, an even slighter nod.

“Good. I’m going to touch your arse, all right?”

He nods again.

‘Touch’ might’ve been an understatement. It’s a light slap and a firm grab, and I’m rather pleased to see him arch into it.

“Good,” I continue. “Very good. Open your legs for me.”

I’m on the verge of repeating my instruction when he obeys. It’s not much, but enough for me to slide my knee further between his thighs, to keep his legs open so I can see the swell of his bollocks, full and flushed, resting between them.

“Yes,” I breathe, “that’s good. Your arse, it’s...I want to see it.”

The muscles move beneath his skin as he tenses and forces himself to relax

“I’m going to open you, Potter. I want to see your hole.”

I swear I hear the faintest whine as I spread him open.

“Merlin.” I’m not sure if I want him to hear it. I’m not sure if I care. Seeing him, after so many months...it’s not as though it’s a masterpiece. It’s an arsehole, a pink ring surrounded by dark skin and darker hair. But it’s his arsehole, this place no one’s touched, or licked, or seen before.

I’m rock hard and newly grateful for my trousers. It’s hard enough not to slip into him as it is. So much as touching my cock would incendiary.

“Merlin,” I repeat. “I want to taste you.”

“What?” He jerks up at that. “What? You can’t, that’s—”

“Trust me,” I interrupt. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.”

“Never felt a Bludger to the bollocks either, doesn’t mean I’d like to.”

I bend over him, bracing an arm on each side of his chest, bringing my mouth to his ear. “You think this is going to be like a Bludger to the bollocks? Potter, I’ll lick your hole so well, you’ll be begging for more.”

His shoulders roll into my chest as he swallows.

“Have I ever hurt you?”

“No,” he concedes.

“Ever done anything that didn’t end with you coming so hard you saw stars?”

“‘Potter Stinks’ badges.”

“Oh, shut up, Potter. Spread your fucking legs and bring me your hole.”

Am I angry with him? No. But impatient might be an understatement.

Fortunately for us both, he obliges.

“We’ll start with something you like.” I breathe it into his ear, then move down, kissing and nipping down his back, sinking my teeth into his arse, biting down his thigh, and putting my mouth to his bollocks.

He moans, quietly at first, as I take one into my mouth and let it drop again, moving to lave the other, and back again. He bucks against me. I do my level best not to do the same to the mattress.

And then, I lift away. “Like that?”

“Mmm,” he breathes, nodding.

“Wait for this.” I slide my tongue up, pressing into the sensitive spot between his arse and balls, and he moans again. Spreads his legs for more. So much the better.

My tongue slides up another inch, and then another, and I can feel the coarseness of his thickening hair, then, at last, the smooth ring of muscle.

I don’t pause, don’t hesitate at all, just drag my tongue over his hole, running it almost the length of his crack. Then again, and again, moving a hand to grip his waist.

He’s holding his breath, I realise. I hum, and lift up. “That bad?”

“Wet,” he whispers.

“Wasn’t the question.” I lick again, slowly, from his bollocks to the fine hairs at the base of his spine. “Is it bad?“

“No,” he breathes.

I pull him towards my face. He’s startled enough to roll his hips, and I feel as much as hear his gasp when I go to work, licking, sucking, kissing his hole.

He gasps again when the tip of my tongue pushes against him, and again when I moan. The feel of him, tightening around my tongue, responding to it...I drop a hand to my tenting trousers and have to pull away at once. I’m so close.

Though if I intend to fuck him I’ll want to make it last, something I’m currently incapable of.

I moan into his hole once more. There it is again – the slightest pressure as he pushes into me.

“Do you like that?”

He doesn’t respond, except with the smallest cant of his hips.

“I do. Your arse is delicious.” I press a kiss to his thigh. “I could eat it all night.”

His breathing speeds.

“Do you know how hard it makes me? How hard I am from eating your arse?”

He yelps when I pull him towards the end of the bed and looks over his shoulder, indignant.

I catch his eye. “So hard, Potter.” I lean back and unbuckle my belt. “So hard I’m going to come. Come in my fist while I’m eating your hole.”

His pupils are dilating, edging out his irises. His mouth has dropped open and I’m tempted, so tempted, to crawl over him, to shove my cock in it.

But I have bigger plans.

He looks down when he hears my flies. My eyelids flutter shut when I touch myself; when I open them again he’s staring at my face, entranced.

A smile curls my lips. “Your arse, Potter. I want it.”

He swallows again.

Then he drops his knees over the side of the bed and bares himself.

I can’t suppress the groan. My cock twitches against my palm. I grab his waist, pull him back, and bury my face in him. His taste is so mild. He needn’t have worried. Sweat and skin, and I want more of it. More of him.

He rolls his hips against my face; I’m beginning to think he wants me to have more of him, too. And at this angle, I can. I lick him in time with my fist, both speeding as I detect the first hint of a proper moan. He’s opening under my tongue, loosening for me, letting that tight ring of muscle contract and release against the tip of my tongue, between my lips.

My thighs tense. My bollocks are painfully tight and I want it to last, want it to keep going.

Then he pushes back against my face, grinds into me with a desperate whine, and I’m coming, coming, spilling all over my hand, all over my trousers, moaning into him, and the vibrations only seem to urge him on.

I have to grip his hip with my free hand to steady him and oh, what a bittersweet turn of events that is. I give him a long, last lick as I pump myself dry, nip his arse before I pull back, resting a hand on his flank and catching my breath.

He tenses under my hand, and I realise he’s sat back on his calves and turned to look. I can’t quite discern his expression. “I—” he looks me, his faces inches away from mine. “That’s it?”

I let loose a smile, heart still pounding. “Should it be?”

He studies my face, won’t quite meet my eye. “No,” he replies. “No, I don’t think so.”

On to Part 2 or Read on AO3

Date: 2015-05-19 03:11 pm (UTC)
gracerene: (Hearts)
From: [personal profile] gracerene
bnia()&*>sdvr^*g!79pr4

OMG! Half birthday porn! This is so exciting!!! I'm telling myself that I am going to hold out until my lunch to read, so I can savor, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to cave long before then!

I will be back with more comments after reading, but oh, you are just so sweet! Like, you don't even know, I am bouncing up in down in my chair and I'm all fluttery with excitement!

*incoherent screaming*

Date: 2015-05-19 03:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Yay!!!!! Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay!!!!!! I am so so so glad you are excited!!! FUCK YEAH CHAIR BOUNCING!!!

And the good thing about porn: it'll keep until whenever you're ready!

Date: 2015-05-19 03:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] this-bloody-cat.livejournal.com
You finished it, OMG!! You finished it! :D :D *sneakily bookmarks to read later*

Date: 2015-05-19 04:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
I did!!! Yaaay!! *grins affectionately at you*

Date: 2015-05-19 05:07 pm (UTC)
gracerene: (HP: Glasses)
From: [personal profile] gracerene
So, I didn't make it to my lunch break. I'm weak. But I love this!

I love the whole casual sex thing they've got going on, but it's obvious there are deeper feelings there. He hasn’t expected this, then. Hasn’t ever thought to look up my address. My stomach twists. I’m all too happy to ascribe it to the Firewhisky. That line was just perfection, showing how much Draco cares and is pretending not to care. And Draco basically wanting it all to be perfect, the first time he fucks Harry, at his flat, in a bed, in his bedroom!

And then! All the feels when Harry says he doesn't bottom! Oh man, I was just expecting porn, and then you give me those lovely feels, and Draco being so hurt, and Harry flailing trying to stop it all from spiraling. Oh, and you've got virgin!Harry which I adore, AND hung!Draco which I also adore! And rimming, and dirty talk! Just so many of my likes here, lovely.

The rimming though. Just smoking hot. Harry being all gorgeous and blushy and embarrassed and then just becoming more shameless as Draco worked him over. And how Draco was just so turned on and filthy and guhh.

On to part 2!

Date: 2015-05-19 08:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Yeah, feels!!! I'm so so so glad that you think they're lovely!! And yeah, your likes!!! It's fic for you, it's gotta be about your likes!! That's the point!! (And A++++ to you for having one of those lovely lists, seriously, thank you). And huge yay for the likes working in a good way and the vibe coming together and just, I am so yay that you like it!!! ♥

Date: 2015-05-19 05:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] iwao.livejournal.com
OMG. I've just read this on AO3 and I'm still reeling! I don't think I've ever read a PWP that felt this satisfying! Soooo bloody hot! And the boys!!! I loved them both to bits! I just wish there were another 10k of this, yano. I kept looking for ch.2 LOL! Cos, yano, there is a hint of a plot there, and I wanted eeeet!! :D

Anyway. This was abrjagagoitewcloajgierbjdskllkjógi! Honestly, <3333333333333333

Date: 2015-05-19 08:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Oh man, this comment!! I just...♥♥♥♥♥ Thank you!!!!

(and yes, hint of a plot - a choose your own adventure type plot? What will they do next? OH THE POSSIBILITIES)

Date: 2015-05-19 06:09 pm (UTC)
snowgall: (close-up)
From: [personal profile] snowgall
Holy shit, dicta.

I mean...christ!

Holy moses on a breadstick woman. That was insanely hot. I just don't have any words, you know? I feel like you wrote this for me! Which is why porn for birthdays is so awesome :) Everybody wins!

But what I loved the most was that even though this was essentially PWP, it still felt like Harry and Draco. All the little tells, like this one:
“Ever done anything that didn’t end with you coming so hard you saw stars?”
“‘Potter Stinks’ badges.”


And this:
I found what eluded even the Dark Pillock: a limit to Potter’s reckless bravery.


Just make it feel connected to canon and sound so much like the characters we know. And I love that so much!

And I also love long, drawn-out, meaningful sex scenes, especially with a touch of awkwardness and novelty, so this was full of win for me ♥

Date: 2015-05-19 08:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Yay!!!! Birthday porn being win for everyone is the most awesome. I'm so so so glad the hotness worked and that it felt meaningful, cause I kind of wanted, like, I was calling it PWP+, and then saw that AO3 has a "Porn With Feelings" tag and was like "ah yes, that, aha!" So I'm THRILLED that it worked. Thank you so much for leaving such an awesome comment!! ♥♥

Date: 2015-05-19 06:18 pm (UTC)
snowgall: (close-up)
From: [personal profile] snowgall
Oh I just thought of the $25,000 question: is this fic bottom!Harry or switching? I mean, you know I don't care, except now I'm embroiled in making these charts and lists, and so the thought occurs to me...what would we call this? It seems totally bottom!Harry to me, even though Draco talks quite a bit about him bottoming for Harry in the past, like this:
We have rarely found ourselves in a bed. Our sort of arrangement doesn’t lend itself to that sort of thing. There was the impulsive rental of a room following another Friday night alley rendezvous, when Potter proved himself a decent, if nervous, top. The illicit usage of the Granger-Weasley’s marital bed, when Potter proved himself decent with a cleaning spell. Once, his own bed, when he Apparated us out of a Muggle club and claimed my arse again.

Is this sort of mention enough to make it a switching fic? Not for me, anyway.

But really, this is why I never understand why people care so much about who is on top in a fic. I just want a great story+porn and I'm happy, like I am now :)

Date: 2015-05-19 08:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
I was wondering about this too! I think the crux of the thing is that it's a bottom!Harry fic but a switching relationship. So how do you categorize that? Especially with the mentions of Draco topping? Because it's still very much a story that's about Harry bottoming for the first time. I mean, it's 10k of Draco topping Harry, that's what the story is about. But I'm pretty sure the mentions of switching would be enough to turn some purists off in a big way, at least big enough to keep them from wanting to read. And the mentions are not totally vague - there are specific times when Harry has topped and we know there are at least two of them, probably three (I'd say three or more, but authorial intent vs what's explicit in the text, I know). So, I don't think this is a switching fic but they are both switches, and in addition to being a top!Draco story, it's also the story of Harry ceasing to be solely a top and becoming a switch so...idk. I really don't.

Mostly, I'm with you in not caring all that much about who tops and bottoms as long as everyone's happy (yay!!) which makes me probably not the person to ask. Someone who has a strong preference for one or the other would, I think, be able to answer this question better than I ever could!

Date: 2015-05-19 08:33 pm (UTC)
snowgall: (close-up)
From: [personal profile] snowgall
Yes, I like that categorization: what happens in the fic vs. what happens in the relationship.

And when we did the poll of what counts as top and bottom, most people seemed to agree that for purposes of counting "who tops more", what matters is what happens in the fic proper. So I think that despite the fact that Harry is known to have topped in the past in their relationship, this is a bottom!Harry fic. :)

Glad we settled that :) Now we can all breathe easier.

(I mean, if someone were to freak out and avoid this fic because they can't stand bottom!Draco, then I just don't know what to do with that. That seems irrational to me, and not at all the reason I'm interested in counting these fics anyway.)

Sorry to hijack your response thread there! I loved this fic and I'm not trying to distract from that ♥



Date: 2015-05-19 09:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Sorry I didn't see this before I responded to your other one!! You know I'm with you in finding these conversations fascinating, so no worries. And yeah, I think for purposes of collecting large-scale data you have to go with what happens in the fic. But I guess - maybe this is how the pieces fit together? - looking at who does what in each fic gives us some sense of how fandom in the aggregate sees each character? (Though that is tremendously messy and has to do with how people see topping and bottoming so, that's not really an answer but maybe a step closer to one. Idk. But I find it so interesting!)

Date: 2015-05-20 11:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] this-bloody-cat.livejournal.com
HAHAHA I chose to ignore you both and tag it 'Switching' <333

Date: 2015-05-21 01:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Ooooh. Even though only one of them is penetrated? Thoughts? I have curiosity!

Date: 2015-05-21 06:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] this-bloody-cat.livejournal.com
I think it'd depend on the reader? I'll send you a pm about this later on because I'm shy (and also because I've been told I need to congratulate you!)

Date: 2015-05-19 08:32 pm (UTC)
gracerene: (HP: Glasses)
From: [personal profile] gracerene
Butting in to say, for the purposes of data collection, I'd consider this bottom!Harry. But, as a reccer who is conscious of peoples specific likes/dislikes when it comes to topping/bottoming, I would "warn" for implied/referenced switching.

And, as a person who enjoys both, sees them as switches, and has a preference for reading bottom!Harry, knowing that it's explicitly bottom!Harry with the references to switching is the kind of thing that would probably bump this fic closer to the top of the to-read pile and is how I'd "see" the fic. Because IMO, even if the bottom!harry is what we're getting, I think the implication of switching, and the fact that this is Harry's first time bottoming, and the changing of how he identifies etc, is part of what I love about the dynamic in this fic, you know? LOL, IDK if I made any sense at all there. Sorry!

Date: 2015-05-19 08:38 pm (UTC)
snowgall: (close-up)
From: [personal profile] snowgall
Makes perfect sense to me. I definitely agree that labeling fics from a reviewer's standpoint of helping readers find fics they like is a different game than labeling fics to analyze trends in fanfic. So we wouldn't have to label them in the same way (even though I think we're in agreement on how to label this fic!)

Oh, and I also agree that most of what I love about sex in fics at all is what it means for the characters. PWP by itself is not nearly so interesting as what dicta called this: "Porn with feelings". So this being Harry's first time bottoming is important and part of the dynamic and is part of what gives this fic feels. And that is what I want :)

Date: 2015-05-19 08:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Makes sense to me too, and I think the distinction grace makes between who a character is and what a character does in a particular fic or scene might be an important one for soc/psych type analyses. Not sure how yet, but it's setting off usefulness alarms. Bookmarking it in my brain!

Date: 2015-05-19 08:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
This makes total, total sense to me. And I think the distinction between who they are and what they're doing is a super important one. I really the way things get complicated when there's a mix of the two, but would agree that if reccing warning for implied switching would make sense on a fic like this because of that distinction - some people want to read fic where one of them tops, others where one of them is a top, and those can be, actually, pretty different things. (I really love this distinction a lot and it's making me think so many thoughts!)

Date: 2015-05-19 08:55 pm (UTC)
birdsofshore: (flapping)
From: [personal profile] birdsofshore
OMG

OMG OMG

WHY did I not check LJ before now

WHY

I have to go to bed.

Really.

I do.

I MEAN IT.

My palms are sweating with how much I need this fic in my life.

I'll be back.

Date: 2015-05-19 09:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
One of the many good things about smut is that it will keep until such time as you can enjoy it properly. No rush - it will be here in the morning!

Date: 2015-05-20 12:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] oakstone730.livejournal.com
This was amazing! So bloody hot. Draco urging Harry on and Harry just read so perfectly for me - his initial hesitation and then getting so into it. Did I mention it was hotter than hot? I read it over lunch and then went back to work thinking 'my coworkers have NO idea what I just read...'

Date: 2015-05-20 03:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Thank you!!!! I'm so glad that the hesitation worked, and the transition out of it to being, you know, pretty damn into it. Which he so was!! YAY for hotter than hot, and lol at your coworkers missing out!! ♥

Date: 2015-05-20 06:09 pm (UTC)
birdsofshore: (super flap)
From: [personal profile] birdsofshore
WHOA DICTA

Wtf happened here? I mean... just the CONCEPT was so freaking hot. I thought I was going to melt, just THINKING about 11k of hung!Draco and virgin!Harry. But then you did THIS with it. My. God.

MY. GOD.

Well. Can grace have a birthday every day? Maybe not every day, because WE'D ALL DIE. Every week? Every month? How much crazily scorching hot PWP is it safe to consume in a year? I feel like I just exceeded my ration in one hour. I might have to go and have my brain refurbished. I'll send you the bill.

I'll write more if I ever recover. Don't hold your breath ;)

Date: 2015-05-20 06:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Oh no, birds! Birds!! I really think I better stop right now. Porn rations exceeded, spontaneous meltings. And there are only so many brain refurbishments a writer can foot! For the sake of public safety, I really better call it a day with this whole "porn" thing. Strictly G-rated from this point forward.

Well, maybe the occassional hand-holding. PG? PG-13? If they hold hand in the sense that one of them puts his hand inside the other one's bum, is that still safe?

Hmmm.

In other news: YAY!! Send over the bill, #sorrynotsorry, will look into porn ration expansion policies. So glad you enjoyed!!

Date: 2015-05-20 08:14 pm (UTC)
birdsofshore: (curlew)
From: [personal profile] birdsofshore
If they hold hand in the sense that one of them puts his hand inside the other one's bum, is that still safe?

OK, thanks for that, I read that in a hotel lounge and just about died trying to make my face return to normal. Even exchanging comments with you is a massive health hazard. Something must be done to stop this tidal wave of hilarious filth emanating from your direction...

Date: 2015-05-21 01:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Is it normal to be this excited about being a health hazard?

There must be some way to stop it, though. Probably involving being tied up somewhere. For the good of the public, you understand. I have a great sense of civic duty that way.

Date: 2015-05-21 08:35 am (UTC)
birdsofshore: (curlew)
From: [personal profile] birdsofshore
Ahehehe! Yeah, I have that same great sense of civic duty. I agree, it's best for all concerned if you are forcibly stopped right now. Just to be on the safe side, they should tie me up as well. In case I encourage you further.

Date: 2015-05-21 05:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dicta-contrion.livejournal.com
Oh yes. We should both be tied up for the greater good. They should probably send their most attractive people to do it, too. Because we are responsible citizens doing what's best for the world. Like superheros.

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