Endowment (for gracerene) - Part 2/2
May. 19th, 2015 11:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dicta_contrionTitle: Endowment (Part 2/2)
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]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
disapparater for the beta-ing and britpickery! gracerene, you continue to be awesome and I continue to hope you are enjoying in part 2!
Summary: Potter has got under my skin for far too long, in far too many ways. I fully intend to return the favour.
Return to Part 1 or Read on AO3
Endowment - Part 2
But when he glances down towards my cock, I see that familiar fear. My heart sinks as I wait for the rejection, the ‘just your fingers,’ the ‘I love a plug.’
It doesn’t come. Instead, he twists at one of my shirt buttons, plucking it open.
And then I remember. Never. He’s never done this. He’s seen other pricks, I’m sure, but apparently in a locker room sort of way. The sort of context where bigger is always better. He doesn’t know how a smaller man feels. Has no reason to fear my cock more than he would any other.
My heart races. I have to work to maintain the appearance of calm control. “Good. I don’t think so either.”
He look up, startled. “How do we...?”
“Turn around again.”
“Like before?”
“Yeah.” I cup his cheek, turn his face so he won’t see my excitement. “On your knees.”
“Right.” He nods slowly, and turns, bending over the edge of the bed, his arse open to me.
I tuck myself away and slide a hand down his back. “I’m going to lick you again, and I’m going to add a finger this time.”
He nods.
This reception is miles from the first. It’s less than a minute before he’s rolling his hips, pushing back against my face. He’s not so quiet, either. Breathy little gasps, whimpers. The start of something throatier, deeper as I make sure he’s sloppy wet. Then, when I replace the tip of my tongue with the tip of my finger a nervous intake of breath.
He holds himself still, tense, bracing for it.
“Relax.” I run my free hand over the curve of his arse. “It’s going to feel so good, Potter.”
His nod is clearly unconvinced.
“Promise,” I add, still stroking his skin.
He nods again, a bit feebly.
I repress a sigh. “Lie down on the bed.”
He looks over his shoulder, confused. “I thought…?”
“I love seeing you.” Merlin, the way he blushes. “But you need to relax. Your whole body is tense.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “On my back?”
“Eventually.” I rock back and stand, offering him a hand. “Stomach first.”
He takes it, pulling himself up so we’re almost eye level. “Why?”
I lean in to nip at his earlobe. “Because I’m not done looking at you.”
He shivers; it’s not for a lack of warmth. “Oh.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Now, on your stomach. On the bed.”
This time he catches my eye as he moves. He brings his hands to the untucked hem of my shirt. He doesn’t look away as he unbuttons it. Not when he fumbles. Not when I gasp, reflexively, when his knuckles brush my chest. Not when he pushes it off my shoulders and runs his hands down my arms. His fingertips are deliciously calloused, his hands perfectly firm. He doesn’t stop until his fingers are linked in mine. “If we’re doing this, it’s together.”
A million remarks compete to make it out of my mouth first. ‘Really, Potter? I was just going to leave you to it.’ ‘So I should call off the Cannons, then?’ ‘Finally decided to go fuck yourself after all?’
He looks at me. He’s so fucking earnest. They die on my tongue, one after the other, and all I manage is a nod.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” I affirm.
“Okay.”
I don’t shiver – really, I don’t – when he squeezes my hand, when he runs his knuckle down my bare chest. When he lies down, arse up, arms down, feet shoulders-width apart, head turned towards me, eyes closed.
Harry Potter. In my bed. Harry Potter’s virgin arse, spread across my duvet.
I don’t shiver, but I do swallow, hard, and resist the urge to stand there, watching.
I toe off my shoes and follow him on to the bed instead, kneeling to one side of him, caressing his calves, following the lines of his muscled legs to his waist, and down again.
He shifts, tilts his hips to invite my touch.
Not the sort of invitation one declines.
He’s so warm, as I run a single finger down his cleft, glancing over his hole. He tenses again, but less vigorously, and he relaxes once it’s passed.
I reach for the bedside table, and the unexpected movement startles him into opening his eyes. I show him the lube and run a hand through his hair, hoping it calms him. Nevertheless, I’m surprised when it works, when he nods and shuts his eyes again, even as I move back down the bed.
“Know how good my tongue felt?” I open the phial and let a good amount drip onto my fingers. “That’s just the beginning.”
“Yeah?” He breathes.
“Oh, yes.” I drop my hand to the base of his spine and trail a lubricated digit down his cleft. “You’ve no idea.” I rest a wet fingertip on his rim. “Though you’re about to.”
He inhales and holds it, and I push. He’s loosened from my tongue, and there’s the lube, and I slip into him to the second knuckle, so easily, like it’s nothing at all, like my finger belongs there.
His instincts catch up in a second’s time. He bears down hard around me and good Merlin but he’s tight. A moan escapes my lips. My cock begins to fill at the implications. I can barely move my finger, he’s got such a grip on it. It’s extraordinary. He’s...Merlin.
His back rises and falls, deep and steady, not moving into it, but not moving away, either. The lube lets me slide against the thick walls of his rectum just enough to rotate my finger. “You’re so tight.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath, but he doesn’t shy away. “Yeah?”
“Mmmm.” I twist my finger again as I answer. “Yeah?”
“That’s good?”
“Yeah.” I laugh, just once. “Yeah, that’s good. Fuck, your arse is good.”
“Yeah?” He breathes, a hint of genuine nervousness creeping through.
“Merlin, yes. You look so fucking good around my finger.” I pull it out to the first knuckle and push in again for emphasis. “You’re gonna be so tight around me.”
He clamps down and I want to curse that particular declaration. “You’ll be so ready for it, I’m gonna get you so ready for it.”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck, yeah.” I withdraw my finger and add more lubricant. “Push back against me this time.”
“Against you?”
“Mmm.”
“‘Kay.” He nods and relaxes his arse.
“Perfect,” I tell him, bringing my fingers back.
He does just as he’s been told. The pressure is delicious, and then I’m through his rim, past the second knuckle, my finger disappearing into him. I’m able to move, too. Out again, back in. “Perfect,” I repeat. “So good.”
He nods, exhales.
“Like that?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Full.”
‘Full.’ I’ve heard of worse, but this is nothing to compare with how full he’ll be. “I’m going to add another.”
“Another?” he opens his eyes, alarmed, and tightens around my finger.
“Another,” I confirm. “I want to see you full of me.” I pull my hand away and slick two fingers. “Just push out when I do it.”
“You’re sure?” There’s a dangerously endearing shakiness to his voice.
“Very.” I rest one fingertip against him. “If you think that was fullness,” I slip the first finger into him, “you’re going to feel so good, Merlin, you don’t even know.”
He’s comfortable enough with one now, letting me move inside of him, relaxing around my index finger.
Then my second fingertip joins the first, and the tension returns.
“Just like the first,” I promise. “Gonna go into you so easily.”
He takes a deep breath and, to my surprise, spreads his legs even further.
“Merlin,” I breathe. “You’re fucking gorgeous. You should see yourself like this.”
He laughs, a half-nervous, half-pleased huff of air that I can’t take any offence to. He sounds pleased. As well he should be.
It relaxes him, too. I seize the moment, sliding a second finger alongside the first.
He bites off an exclamation, hissing at the inevitable burn. “Fuck,” he pants. “Fuck.”
I stop, both fingers inside him. “I know. I know.” Whether I want to reassure or distract is an open question, but I’m damned if I’m going to stop. “It stings, I know.”
He’s panting through gritted teeth.
“It’ll stop though. Promise. It’ll feel so good when you’re ready for it. So full, so good.
His eyes are screwed shut, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. He seems not to hear my reassurances, so absorbed is he in his discomfort. I can imagine his response to the suggestion of a third, and it doesn’t bode well for my cock. But once the burning is over, once he’s loose and ready…I know this pain, but thus far it’s all he knows. Not the pleasure that comes after and makes this worthwhile.
“Justonemore,” I spit out, sliding a third next to the first two.
He roars. I push down. I’ve survived many epithets and ‘gentle’ was never among them. Whereas all the words Potter’s using certainly were.
“Yes, that’s it,” I reassure.
“Fuck, Malfoy,” he bites out. “Fuck, that fucking hurts.”
“I kno—”
“You know? You think you fucking know?
“You know I fucking know,” I snap, “as it’s been your prick up my arse. I know, Potter. And I know it’s fucking worth it, too, if you’d shut up and let me show you.”
“It fucking hurts.”
“Does it still?”
He pauses. Lets out a breath. “Yes.”
“As badly as it did?”
He pouts.
“Exactly. Now, just relax.”
“Just relax? Are you joking?”
The walls of his rectum contract around my fingers as I begin to twist them. “No.”
“Fuck, Malfoy.”
My cock stirs. “I’d like to.”
“You,” he huffs, but it’s subsumed by a wince as I push into him. “Fucker.”
“As I said.” I pull out again, until I can see the better part of all three fingers.
“Y—” he cuts off as I slide them back in, pushing back against me, and his attempt at a word descends into a gasp.
“F—” he tries again, this time pulled up short by a twist of the knuckles upon re-entry. He lifts his hips this time, bearing down on my fingers.
“Yes?”
“Fff—” it peters out into a hiss. His hips begin to move in time with my hand.
And oh, it’s a divine sight. My pale fingers against the dark skin of his hole, the beads of sweat that have begun to gather in the small of his back, the way his rim grips onto my fingers, pulling them back, and deeper.
I’ve kept something back from him, of course. The fullness is enough, something he should learn to enjoy. But there’s so much more to this. So much more I can show him. Make him feel.
“Still hurting?”
He shakes his head.
“Good.” I bring my free hand to stroke his thigh. He’s breathing evenly, if quickly. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Full,” he breathes.
“Just full?”
He shakes his head again.
“Tell me.”
“It’s,” he rolls his hips, meeting me on a thrust, “all right.”
Those words, again. “All right?”
“Yeah.” He arches back into me. “Feels…yeah, good.”
Better. “Ready for more?”
“More?” He repeats it, half-overwhelmed with new sensation.
“More,” I confirm, pulling my fingers out, repressing a victorious exclamation when he raises his arse off the bed to follow them.
When he realises what he’s doing, he collapses back to the bed, resting his head on his forearms.
I find I’m conflicted about this next command. I love seeing him like this. His back and thighs all muscle, his arse rocking into me. The clear view of his hole, of course. But I want to see his face when I fuck him.
“Turn over.”
He turns to look at me. Halfway there already, then. He winces when he moves his hips and lies back very delicately, flinching when he rests back on his arse.
I move to correct him at once. This pain is not necessary. Kneeling between his legs, I lift one knee over my shoulder. He looks as relieved as he does startled.
“It helps to take the weight off.”
He nods, gives me something of a grateful look, which I almost miss for staring at his cock.
For all his protestations, it’s rock hard and dripping. There’s a pool of precome already forming on his stomach; I resist the urge to lick it off.
“You’ve still got your trousers on.”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t more…?” He looks pointedly at the very noticeable bulge that’s reasserted itself beneath my waistband.
“Is that what you want?”
Confusion crosses his features. “Isn’t it...what else is there?”
I smile and reach for the lube, coating my fingers again before lining two up at his entrance. “This.”
He’s so much more open. He winces, sore around the rim, at first, but it’s easy to slide into him now. I’m almost hypnotised for a moment, watching my fingers disappear so easily into his arse, watching his cock bob against his stomach.
And though he looks pleased – more than pleased – the edge of confusion remains. My cock twitches at the thought of what comes next.
He’s so pliant when I push into him again. Takes my fingers beautifully, moans when I twist them, and then, I push up and – there it is.
His eyes fly open, really open, and he fists the duvet so hard the fabric strains. His mouth moves. He tries to form words. There are none. Just a gasping, shocked inhale.
And then I press up and it comes out in almost a scream. He drops the duvet to slam a fist into the headboard and looks at me with such bewildered desperation.
“More,” I whisper, leaning over him. “That’s more.”
“More,” he mouths. “More.”
“Like that?”
He nods wildly. His cock twitches against my stomach.
“Told you, didn’t I?”
He nods, not caring about the admission in the slightest. “More,” he croaks.
“Is that a request?”
“Yes,” he moans.
“My fingers look so good inside you.”
He’s bracing himself on the headboard, hips bucking up to meet my fingers.
“You’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?”
He nods again, dropping a hand to my back, urging me closer, faster.
“Think of how good that’s going to feel with my cock inside you.” I only hope it’s true. I’m quite certain that a cock would feel good, but mine is so frequently another story.
Potter seems wholly unconcerned with that detail, though. He nods furiously, twisting his fingers against my scalp.
He whines when I withdraw my hand. It’s a beautiful sound.
A beautiful sight, too. His hole is glistening with lube, his prick is dripping. My own jerks at the sight of it. His breathing is shallow and his chest is flushed, and his eyes follow my hands to my waistband as I push pants and trousers down my thighs and slip out of them.
Again, his eyes flit to my cock. It’s rock hard again, and massive as ever.
He licks his lips.
My stomach flips. Is it – could it be – possible that he likes the sight of it?
It hits me all over again that he’s something of a virgin. That he – though I still can’t quite comprehend it – isn’t the cock connoisseur I’d imagined. That he’s never had a smaller cock. Any cock. That he doesn’t know to be afraid of mine.
He reaches out a hand for it. Pleasure shoots down my shaft and up my spine as his fingers graze the underside. He looks up at me with such want, it’s all I can do not to plough into him.
But I musn’t. He’s not ready for that.
Yet.
I slide two fingers into him again. There’s almost no resistance now, and he arches to meet them. He grips my shaft reflexively, and fuck, but his hand feels good.
“You’re so open for me.”
He nods furiously.
It turns to a frown when I lift his hand from my erection and replace it with my own. He reaches out again and I block him with a few outstretched fingers. “Touch yourself.”
He pauses, unsure.
“Touch yourself for me,” I repeat. “It’ll feel so good while I fuck you.”
With a staggered breath, he nods, and drops his hand to his prick.
I resist the urge to watch; I hope it can wait for another time.
“Spread your legs for me.”
He complies immediately.
“Good,” I whisper, leaning over him. “That’s right.”
My cock’s heavy in my hand. I’m so hard, and light-headed, and I half wonder if they’re related, but it’s not always the case. I don’t feel this dizzy when I’m wanking, or when it’s a stranger sucking me off behind a club somewhere. Though I’m loathe to admit it, I know viscerally that this has everything to do with him.
I withdraw my fingers and reach for the lube. Coat myself. I want to make sure this is good for him. He’ll remember this always. There’s every reason in the world to make the memory a good one.
I guide the tip to his entrance, and bite down on my lip when his hole clenches around me immediately. It wasn’t just words; he really is hungry for it.
He strokes himself tentatively, distractedly. His eyes are on my hips, focused on my pelvis with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Cock still in one hand, I brace myself with the other and press forward.
He winces. I remind myself that that’s inevitable. I know this burn. Have felt it under him before. It’s not the burn that matters, it’s what comes after. It’s a matter of fucking him so well that he comes to recognise it for the promise of pleasure.
It takes more focus than I’d like to continue. To continue slowly. Purposefully. He winces again as I press forward. “S’all right,” I reassure, hating the sound of my own slurred words. “Just wait.”
He nods, and grips my shoulder with his free hand.
Slowly, so slowly, I inch forward. He’s so slick I’m more than half tempted to slide in to the hilt and let him feel it all at once. Were I a smaller man, I might. But I’ve learned restraint the hard way and I’m already certain I don’t want this first time to be the last.
His breathing is shallow and his hand has dropped from his cock to the sheets, but he still looks so intent. I suppose determination has always been at home on his features, and why should this be any exception?
“I’m gonna fill you,” I whisper.
He nods. “Yeah. Do it.” It’s breathy and uneven, but he looks at me with such fire. “Fuck me, Malfoy.”
Something in my chest twists. Merlin, I want him, with an irrational lust that almost overcomes my cautiousness. “Yeah,” I reply, hoarse but sure. “I’m gonna fuck you, Potter.”
He locks eyes with me, and I move, press forward until I feel his pucker against my fist. I let go and slide my cock through my fingers, further into him, and further still. I can feel his body struggling to yield to me, and it makes him so tight around me, so fucking tight, and if I hadn’t already come this would be over far too soon.
He winces again as he takes a seventh inch, but he doesn’t stop me. I ought to ask him if he’s all right, but I’m not sure I still can. It’s been ages since I’ve been this deep inside anyone and it’s…I’m not sure I could still speak even if pressed.
An eighth inch disappears into his arse. He whimpers, but he cants his hips for more, too, and his hole is so open, my cock so slick, that the remaining inch slips into him like nothing.
I look down, try to hide my shock. I’m inside of him, completely.
“In?”
I nod, still looking down in a bit of awe.
“Full.” His voice sounds strained.
“Yeah?” I manage.
“Yeah.”
I don’t want to lose this, this feeling, but I have to know it’s real. I slide out an inch, and in again. I hear him hiss, but he doesn’t look pained. I try it again, and there’s another sibilant sort of half-whisper, but he meets my hips this time. He’s breathing heavily, and his chest is covered with a fine sheen of sweat, but when I don’t move again, he cants his hips, almost as if to encourage more.
I have to know. “Like that?”
He manages a breathy smile. “Yeah.”
“More?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I move with a bit more confidence this time. I’ve been in him and he likes it. I pull halfway out this time, and slide in again.
“Aah.” He reaches for my shoulder with another hiss. He’s breathing hard.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he swallows. “Yeah. Just…”
My stomach sinks. I wait for it: ‘too much,’ ‘too soon,’ ‘fingers again?’
“Faster, maybe?”
“What?” The word slips out before I freeze, and thank fuck for that because he says it again.
“Faster, I think?” He sounds fucking shy about it, like he’s asking for a favour, and how he could think that I’ll never know. “Felt good before.”
I stare down at him, amazed, but I guess it looks like something else, because he’s tentative when he speaks again.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” I force myself to respond. 'Okay' doesn’t begin to cover it. “Yeah.”
I withdraw again, and slide into him. Again, again. He wraps a leg around my back and his fingernails dig into my shoulder. The hissing is gone, replaced with heavy, shuddering breaths.
“Like that?” I barely manage it, for the sensations shooting down my shaft.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, that’s good.”
I speed up, pulling half out of him and pushing in again. The muscle of his rectum is unbelievably soft, and firm, and it feels too good for words, this.
“Yeah,” he whispers again. “So full.”
“So full,” I repeat. “Gonna fill you up.”
“Yeah, do it.”
I chance a deeper thrust this time, and he gasps. Holds me closer.
“Like that?”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“Yeah,” I repeat. “Yeah, you do.”
“Yeah,” he agrees on an exhale. He grips me tighter. “Fuck, can you, what you did before?”
“Slower?”
“No!” He smiles, a bit shyly, at his own vehemence. “Before,” he gasps, “with your fingers, when you, sort of, when you pressed up, and—?”
“Ah.” I know what he means now and, from the intensity of his reactions, hadn’t even realised I haven’t been hitting his prostate. “Yeah.”
Lifting a hand from the bed, I take his leg from my waist and slip it over my shoulder. He winces again as I bend forward to lean over him again, and I pause. “Ready?”
He nods, breathing through this new fullness.
I pull out again, and press forward.
His eyes fly open and he grips my shoulder so tightly his nails might break the skin and he makes this sound, this animalistic moan, and I know, know with certainty, that I’ve got it. And fuck if it doesn’t look amazing on him.
My hips move automatically, pumping into him. I know I’m losing some control, but he doesn’t look like he minds.
Not at all.
He’s got his head thrown back and when I roll my hips he groans so deeply his chest vibrates with it.
“More,” he gasps again. “Harder.”
Never, in my years of fucking, has anyone made that request with my cock up their arse. Some tiny, niggling part of my brain wants to be angry that it’s him.
The rest of me is too busy fucking him to care.
As requests go, this one is easy. I drive into him and he gasps, arches his back, screws his eyes shut and moans. One hand fists the sheets, the other drops from my shoulder to my arse.
“More,” he insists. “Fuck, Malfoy, more.”
I pull all the way out this time, my cock leaving his hole with a wet pop, and he looks up at me in open anguish.
That is, until I drive back into him in one hard thrust that leaves him screaming, clenching around me with such force I see stars.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, yeah.”
I’d never pinned Potter for either a masochist or a cockslut, but whichever it is, I’ll take more of it.
I drive into him again, my bollocks almost too tight now to slap against the soft muscle of his arse.
But then, I can go harder if I want them to. Can go as hard and as deep as I want, and it seems Potter will take it.
Again. I drive into him, he arches and grabs my arse and lets out one of those beautiful, unearthly, moans. And again, and again. I’m sweating too, now, can feel it as our bodies slide together, but no power on this earth could stop me from pounding into this unbelievable arse.
And still, he pants for more. I can feel myself getting closer.
“Touch yourself,” I manage, just barely.
He looks almost surprised to realise he hasn’t been. He looks down to his own dripping erection, and lifts a hand from the sheets to stroke himself.
The sight of it does something to me. I have to think of anything but this, of—, of—
Everything I can think of is too dark to belong here. And I don’t want that. Not distraction. Not darkness.
All I want is the heat of Potter’s rectum gripping my cock, and the sight of him passing a thumb over the head of his prick to smooth his precome down the shaft.
“Yeah, like that,” I manage. “Wank yourself with my cock up your arse.”
He moans and strokes harder, his eyelids fluttering shut as he does it.
I watch him as I move, harder and faster, just like he’s wanted, snapping my hips forward to bury myself in him. I can feel it coming now, unstoppable, gathering in my thighs and then—
I fall forward as I come, shooting into him. I can feel his hand still beneath me. I can hear myself moaning his name. I don’t stop rolling my hips, thrusting slowly now, as he contracts around me till I’m bone fucking dry and stunned with the force of my orgasm.
I’m almost too fucking dazed to pull out, half tempted to collapse on top of him and be done with it.
But when I glance down, I see his uncertainty, and his erection, and realise that while I’ve come twice, he’s yet to come at all.
It’s my turn to wince as I pull out of him. I’m so sensitive, so spent.
Still, I swallow when I see his hole. I’m so big, and he was so well prepared, that he’s still open for me. He’s slicked with lube and his hole is dripping as my come runs into the crease of his arse.
Experimentally, I trail a thumb over his entrance. He presses against me.
Interesting.
I look up and find him propped on his elbows, staring down at me, half unsure, half hopeful.
He wants this.
He likes this. Likes me in his arse. He wants more of it.
I don’t think I manage to hide my smile.
“Lie back,” I order, getting to my knees. He hesitates. “Lie back,” I repeat, ”Or I won’t fucking touch you.”
He drops to his back.
“Hands above your head and don’t move them.”
He obeys without argument.
I swipe my thumb over his hole again. “Like that, do you?”
He nods.
“Answer me.”
He breathes in. It’s shallow, nervous. “Yes.”
“You want more of it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to fingerfuck you with my own come, do you?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
“Say it.”
“I want –“ He swallows. “I want you to fingerfuck me with your own come.”
“Until?”
“Until, um.” He’s flushing. “UntilIcome.”
“Good.”
My thumb slides into him, up to the knuckle. “Like that?”
“Yes, but,” he falters. “It’s good, but…more?”
“More,” I repeat, sliding another half inch of thumb into his arse. “More like that?”
He shakes his head. Remembers himself. “No.”
“How, then?”
“More fingers,” he whispers.
I replace my thumb with my index and middle fingers.
He gives a contented moan, nods.
“You like that?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Yeah.”
“Think you could come just like this?”
He shakes his head. “No, need to – can I touch?”
I stop to consider. He could, I suppose, but it’s not quite the same experience, doing the work yourself. “No, you can’t.”
He looks distraught until I move to catch the tip of his cock between my lips. I give it a kiss. “Tell me now. Would you rather touch yourself?”
Wide-eyed, he shakes his head furiously.
“Didn’t think so.” I lick a strip up the underside of his shaft. He whines so beautifully. I wonder how he’d sound begging.
“Want me to suck your cock while I fuck you?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
“Manners, Potter.”
His blink turns into an eye roll. He almost smiles. I withdraw my fingers in warning and the smile vanishes instantly. “Please,” he says. “Please suck me.”
He relaxes when I slide into him again. “If I’m sucking you, you’ll have to tell me what you want.”
“Thought you knew,” he breathes, with a hint of a laugh.
I jerk my fingers up to hit his prostate again. His eyes flutter back into his head. “I do.”
He nods, gasping for breath.
“I just want to hear you beg.”
If it gives him pause, it’s not enough to outweigh the pleasure he must be feeling now. He nods. “Okay.”
I dip my two fingers into him again. “You stop, I stop.”
“’Kay,” he gasps. “Okay.”
Satisfied, I lean down to lick him again, ending at the tip of his cock and taking him in my mouth.
He moans. “Yeah, that’s good.”
I lift off and slide halfway down, letting him feel my tongue against his shaft.
He clenches around my fingers. “Don’t stop fucking me.”
He doesn’t know this, not yet, but, given my endowment, fingerfucking has become a particular mastery of mine. I crook my fingers up to hit his prostate and feel him tighten around them.
“Holy fuck, yeah, just like that.”
I stroke his prostate again, and hollow my cheeks to suck him in.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, I wanna come in your mouth.”
I hum my agreement, which only seems to move us closer to that point.
“Harder, please. And – more, can you?”
I can. I slip a third finger into him, and he’s so slippery, so open, it goes like it’s nothing. When I move to slide them out again he tightens around me, determined to keep them there. I suck him down so far he’s hitting the back of my throat, thinking it might release the grip he’s got on my fingers, but it’s quite the opposite. He bears down harder, arching his back and making it almost impossible for me to move.
But I manage, crooking the tips of my finger so his prostate is stimulated from every reachable angle, and hum around his shaft as I slide off it, and down again.
I hear a noise and look up. He’s pounded his fist into the headboard, and is pushing against it in some combination of desire and frustration. It gives him leverage, too, to grind down against my fingers. Which he does, rolling his hips with open enthusiasm.
“So close,” he gasps. “Please fuck me, please, don’t stop.”
As if I would, at this sight. His eyes are glazed, he’s glistening with sweat, I can feel his cock twitching in my mouth.
I lick down to suck his balls into my mouth. They’re high and tight and I can’t imagine we’re far off now.
“Fuck, your mouth. Please, Malfoy, need your mouth.”
The urge to tell him he already has it is strong, but I’ve got better things to do than taunt. I lick a feather-light stripe up his shaft and wait, my fingers still working against his prostate.
“Please,” he repeats.
“Suck you?”
He groans. “Yes, fuck me, suck me, please, just do it.”
“Why?” I kiss his tip again.
“Need to come. Need to – so close.”
“Tell me how.”
“Your mouth,” he says again. “Need your mouth.”
“And?”
“Fingers. Fuck me with your fingers.”
“Three?”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah. Or more. Four.”
I slip my pinkie in next to the others. “Like that.”
He gives a guttural moan. “Yeah, fuck. Big as your cock, perfect.”
My cock is showing interest, though Merlin knows we’ll both be too sore to do that again.
I twist my hand inside of him. He screams, bucking off the bed and into my waiting mouth. I suck him down, hear him punch the headboard again.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “So fucking good, I’m gonna, gonna…”
It’s all about rhythm now. I fuck my fingers into him, bob my head around his shaft, feel him clenching and gasping.
Then he’s arching off the bed, chanting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, fuck.”
He shouts, and I feel his spunk fill my mouth. I swallow with an eye to keeping up. He hits the headboard again, and lets out a guttural groan as his hips fall to the bed.
I don’t stop fucking him until he whimpers and pulls away, and I’m surprised at how acutely I feel the loss of him around me. My fingers are sticky with come and lube, and cold.
It’s almost a full minute before he manages to open his eyes. “That…” he whispers. “That was…”
He looks to me, searchingly, but I want to hear his word for this, and if he says ‘all right,’ on Slytherin’s grave, I’ll fucking slap him.
“Incredible,” he breathes.
A narrow escape.
“That was…fuck.” He blinks and props himself up. “That was so fucking good, I had no idea, no idea at all, but your cock…Merlin, your fucking cock.” He collapses back on to the bed.
Not so narrow, perhaps.
I move to lie back next to him. “Not as awful as you’d thought?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Not some painful, disgusting trial?”
“It did hurt,” he replies. “But then…”
“It always hurts a bit,” I offer, after a moment’s silence. “Burns. But if it’s worth it...”
He reaches for my arm, gives it a squeeze. “Yeah. Worth it.”
And then there’s the question I’ve never dared ask before. The answer’s always been evident, if we’ve even got that far. “Worth it again?”
My stomach drops as soon as the words are out.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Fuck yeah.” He laughs. “Your cock, Malfoy, is a thing of beauty.”
I’m glad he’s looking at the ceiling instead of my face. I doubt this particular combination of shock and smugness would be quite my best look.
“Though,” he says. I’m on the cusp of despair again – ‘though I wish it was a bit smaller?’ ‘though maybe just your fingers next time?’ - until he continues, with a nervous laugh, “don’t know how you’d be able to fuck me that long at a Ministry do.”
I swallow, shocked, again, such that words that don’t seem to be forthcoming. “True.”
“The bed thing might’ve been a good idea.”
“Yes, well. I’m full of those.”
“Apparently.” He laughs again, and out of the corner of my eye I see him rest his arms behind his head. “Can see why you had it in mind.”
“You might still be surprised at how well I could fuck you at a Ministry do.”
“Yeah.” He rolls over, propping himself on one elbow to grin down at me, his satiation tinged with challenge. “Yeah, I just might be.”
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11k
Warnings/Enticements:
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
disapparater for the beta-ing and britpickery! gracerene, you continue to be awesome and I continue to hope you are enjoying in part 2!Summary: Potter has got under my skin for far too long, in far too many ways. I fully intend to return the favour.
Return to Part 1 or Read on AO3
Endowment - Part 2
But when he glances down towards my cock, I see that familiar fear. My heart sinks as I wait for the rejection, the ‘just your fingers,’ the ‘I love a plug.’
It doesn’t come. Instead, he twists at one of my shirt buttons, plucking it open.
And then I remember. Never. He’s never done this. He’s seen other pricks, I’m sure, but apparently in a locker room sort of way. The sort of context where bigger is always better. He doesn’t know how a smaller man feels. Has no reason to fear my cock more than he would any other.
My heart races. I have to work to maintain the appearance of calm control. “Good. I don’t think so either.”
He look up, startled. “How do we...?”
“Turn around again.”
“Like before?”
“Yeah.” I cup his cheek, turn his face so he won’t see my excitement. “On your knees.”
“Right.” He nods slowly, and turns, bending over the edge of the bed, his arse open to me.
I tuck myself away and slide a hand down his back. “I’m going to lick you again, and I’m going to add a finger this time.”
He nods.
This reception is miles from the first. It’s less than a minute before he’s rolling his hips, pushing back against my face. He’s not so quiet, either. Breathy little gasps, whimpers. The start of something throatier, deeper as I make sure he’s sloppy wet. Then, when I replace the tip of my tongue with the tip of my finger a nervous intake of breath.
He holds himself still, tense, bracing for it.
“Relax.” I run my free hand over the curve of his arse. “It’s going to feel so good, Potter.”
His nod is clearly unconvinced.
“Promise,” I add, still stroking his skin.
He nods again, a bit feebly.
I repress a sigh. “Lie down on the bed.”
He looks over his shoulder, confused. “I thought…?”
“I love seeing you.” Merlin, the way he blushes. “But you need to relax. Your whole body is tense.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “On my back?”
“Eventually.” I rock back and stand, offering him a hand. “Stomach first.”
He takes it, pulling himself up so we’re almost eye level. “Why?”
I lean in to nip at his earlobe. “Because I’m not done looking at you.”
He shivers; it’s not for a lack of warmth. “Oh.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Now, on your stomach. On the bed.”
This time he catches my eye as he moves. He brings his hands to the untucked hem of my shirt. He doesn’t look away as he unbuttons it. Not when he fumbles. Not when I gasp, reflexively, when his knuckles brush my chest. Not when he pushes it off my shoulders and runs his hands down my arms. His fingertips are deliciously calloused, his hands perfectly firm. He doesn’t stop until his fingers are linked in mine. “If we’re doing this, it’s together.”
A million remarks compete to make it out of my mouth first. ‘Really, Potter? I was just going to leave you to it.’ ‘So I should call off the Cannons, then?’ ‘Finally decided to go fuck yourself after all?’
He looks at me. He’s so fucking earnest. They die on my tongue, one after the other, and all I manage is a nod.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” I affirm.
“Okay.”
I don’t shiver – really, I don’t – when he squeezes my hand, when he runs his knuckle down my bare chest. When he lies down, arse up, arms down, feet shoulders-width apart, head turned towards me, eyes closed.
Harry Potter. In my bed. Harry Potter’s virgin arse, spread across my duvet.
I don’t shiver, but I do swallow, hard, and resist the urge to stand there, watching.
I toe off my shoes and follow him on to the bed instead, kneeling to one side of him, caressing his calves, following the lines of his muscled legs to his waist, and down again.
He shifts, tilts his hips to invite my touch.
Not the sort of invitation one declines.
He’s so warm, as I run a single finger down his cleft, glancing over his hole. He tenses again, but less vigorously, and he relaxes once it’s passed.
I reach for the bedside table, and the unexpected movement startles him into opening his eyes. I show him the lube and run a hand through his hair, hoping it calms him. Nevertheless, I’m surprised when it works, when he nods and shuts his eyes again, even as I move back down the bed.
“Know how good my tongue felt?” I open the phial and let a good amount drip onto my fingers. “That’s just the beginning.”
“Yeah?” He breathes.
“Oh, yes.” I drop my hand to the base of his spine and trail a lubricated digit down his cleft. “You’ve no idea.” I rest a wet fingertip on his rim. “Though you’re about to.”
He inhales and holds it, and I push. He’s loosened from my tongue, and there’s the lube, and I slip into him to the second knuckle, so easily, like it’s nothing at all, like my finger belongs there.
His instincts catch up in a second’s time. He bears down hard around me and good Merlin but he’s tight. A moan escapes my lips. My cock begins to fill at the implications. I can barely move my finger, he’s got such a grip on it. It’s extraordinary. He’s...Merlin.
His back rises and falls, deep and steady, not moving into it, but not moving away, either. The lube lets me slide against the thick walls of his rectum just enough to rotate my finger. “You’re so tight.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath, but he doesn’t shy away. “Yeah?”
“Mmmm.” I twist my finger again as I answer. “Yeah?”
“That’s good?”
“Yeah.” I laugh, just once. “Yeah, that’s good. Fuck, your arse is good.”
“Yeah?” He breathes, a hint of genuine nervousness creeping through.
“Merlin, yes. You look so fucking good around my finger.” I pull it out to the first knuckle and push in again for emphasis. “You’re gonna be so tight around me.”
He clamps down and I want to curse that particular declaration. “You’ll be so ready for it, I’m gonna get you so ready for it.”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck, yeah.” I withdraw my finger and add more lubricant. “Push back against me this time.”
“Against you?”
“Mmm.”
“‘Kay.” He nods and relaxes his arse.
“Perfect,” I tell him, bringing my fingers back.
He does just as he’s been told. The pressure is delicious, and then I’m through his rim, past the second knuckle, my finger disappearing into him. I’m able to move, too. Out again, back in. “Perfect,” I repeat. “So good.”
He nods, exhales.
“Like that?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Full.”
‘Full.’ I’ve heard of worse, but this is nothing to compare with how full he’ll be. “I’m going to add another.”
“Another?” he opens his eyes, alarmed, and tightens around my finger.
“Another,” I confirm. “I want to see you full of me.” I pull my hand away and slick two fingers. “Just push out when I do it.”
“You’re sure?” There’s a dangerously endearing shakiness to his voice.
“Very.” I rest one fingertip against him. “If you think that was fullness,” I slip the first finger into him, “you’re going to feel so good, Merlin, you don’t even know.”
He’s comfortable enough with one now, letting me move inside of him, relaxing around my index finger.
Then my second fingertip joins the first, and the tension returns.
“Just like the first,” I promise. “Gonna go into you so easily.”
He takes a deep breath and, to my surprise, spreads his legs even further.
“Merlin,” I breathe. “You’re fucking gorgeous. You should see yourself like this.”
He laughs, a half-nervous, half-pleased huff of air that I can’t take any offence to. He sounds pleased. As well he should be.
It relaxes him, too. I seize the moment, sliding a second finger alongside the first.
He bites off an exclamation, hissing at the inevitable burn. “Fuck,” he pants. “Fuck.”
I stop, both fingers inside him. “I know. I know.” Whether I want to reassure or distract is an open question, but I’m damned if I’m going to stop. “It stings, I know.”
He’s panting through gritted teeth.
“It’ll stop though. Promise. It’ll feel so good when you’re ready for it. So full, so good.
His eyes are screwed shut, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. He seems not to hear my reassurances, so absorbed is he in his discomfort. I can imagine his response to the suggestion of a third, and it doesn’t bode well for my cock. But once the burning is over, once he’s loose and ready…I know this pain, but thus far it’s all he knows. Not the pleasure that comes after and makes this worthwhile.
“Justonemore,” I spit out, sliding a third next to the first two.
He roars. I push down. I’ve survived many epithets and ‘gentle’ was never among them. Whereas all the words Potter’s using certainly were.
“Yes, that’s it,” I reassure.
“Fuck, Malfoy,” he bites out. “Fuck, that fucking hurts.”
“I kno—”
“You know? You think you fucking know?
“You know I fucking know,” I snap, “as it’s been your prick up my arse. I know, Potter. And I know it’s fucking worth it, too, if you’d shut up and let me show you.”
“It fucking hurts.”
“Does it still?”
He pauses. Lets out a breath. “Yes.”
“As badly as it did?”
He pouts.
“Exactly. Now, just relax.”
“Just relax? Are you joking?”
The walls of his rectum contract around my fingers as I begin to twist them. “No.”
“Fuck, Malfoy.”
My cock stirs. “I’d like to.”
“You,” he huffs, but it’s subsumed by a wince as I push into him. “Fucker.”
“As I said.” I pull out again, until I can see the better part of all three fingers.
“Y—” he cuts off as I slide them back in, pushing back against me, and his attempt at a word descends into a gasp.
“F—” he tries again, this time pulled up short by a twist of the knuckles upon re-entry. He lifts his hips this time, bearing down on my fingers.
“Yes?”
“Fff—” it peters out into a hiss. His hips begin to move in time with my hand.
And oh, it’s a divine sight. My pale fingers against the dark skin of his hole, the beads of sweat that have begun to gather in the small of his back, the way his rim grips onto my fingers, pulling them back, and deeper.
I’ve kept something back from him, of course. The fullness is enough, something he should learn to enjoy. But there’s so much more to this. So much more I can show him. Make him feel.
“Still hurting?”
He shakes his head.
“Good.” I bring my free hand to stroke his thigh. He’s breathing evenly, if quickly. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Full,” he breathes.
“Just full?”
He shakes his head again.
“Tell me.”
“It’s,” he rolls his hips, meeting me on a thrust, “all right.”
Those words, again. “All right?”
“Yeah.” He arches back into me. “Feels…yeah, good.”
Better. “Ready for more?”
“More?” He repeats it, half-overwhelmed with new sensation.
“More,” I confirm, pulling my fingers out, repressing a victorious exclamation when he raises his arse off the bed to follow them.
When he realises what he’s doing, he collapses back to the bed, resting his head on his forearms.
I find I’m conflicted about this next command. I love seeing him like this. His back and thighs all muscle, his arse rocking into me. The clear view of his hole, of course. But I want to see his face when I fuck him.
“Turn over.”
He turns to look at me. Halfway there already, then. He winces when he moves his hips and lies back very delicately, flinching when he rests back on his arse.
I move to correct him at once. This pain is not necessary. Kneeling between his legs, I lift one knee over my shoulder. He looks as relieved as he does startled.
“It helps to take the weight off.”
He nods, gives me something of a grateful look, which I almost miss for staring at his cock.
For all his protestations, it’s rock hard and dripping. There’s a pool of precome already forming on his stomach; I resist the urge to lick it off.
“You’ve still got your trousers on.”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t more…?” He looks pointedly at the very noticeable bulge that’s reasserted itself beneath my waistband.
“Is that what you want?”
Confusion crosses his features. “Isn’t it...what else is there?”
I smile and reach for the lube, coating my fingers again before lining two up at his entrance. “This.”
He’s so much more open. He winces, sore around the rim, at first, but it’s easy to slide into him now. I’m almost hypnotised for a moment, watching my fingers disappear so easily into his arse, watching his cock bob against his stomach.
And though he looks pleased – more than pleased – the edge of confusion remains. My cock twitches at the thought of what comes next.
He’s so pliant when I push into him again. Takes my fingers beautifully, moans when I twist them, and then, I push up and – there it is.
His eyes fly open, really open, and he fists the duvet so hard the fabric strains. His mouth moves. He tries to form words. There are none. Just a gasping, shocked inhale.
And then I press up and it comes out in almost a scream. He drops the duvet to slam a fist into the headboard and looks at me with such bewildered desperation.
“More,” I whisper, leaning over him. “That’s more.”
“More,” he mouths. “More.”
“Like that?”
He nods wildly. His cock twitches against my stomach.
“Told you, didn’t I?”
He nods, not caring about the admission in the slightest. “More,” he croaks.
“Is that a request?”
“Yes,” he moans.
“My fingers look so good inside you.”
He’s bracing himself on the headboard, hips bucking up to meet my fingers.
“You’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?”
He nods again, dropping a hand to my back, urging me closer, faster.
“Think of how good that’s going to feel with my cock inside you.” I only hope it’s true. I’m quite certain that a cock would feel good, but mine is so frequently another story.
Potter seems wholly unconcerned with that detail, though. He nods furiously, twisting his fingers against my scalp.
He whines when I withdraw my hand. It’s a beautiful sound.
A beautiful sight, too. His hole is glistening with lube, his prick is dripping. My own jerks at the sight of it. His breathing is shallow and his chest is flushed, and his eyes follow my hands to my waistband as I push pants and trousers down my thighs and slip out of them.
Again, his eyes flit to my cock. It’s rock hard again, and massive as ever.
He licks his lips.
My stomach flips. Is it – could it be – possible that he likes the sight of it?
It hits me all over again that he’s something of a virgin. That he – though I still can’t quite comprehend it – isn’t the cock connoisseur I’d imagined. That he’s never had a smaller cock. Any cock. That he doesn’t know to be afraid of mine.
He reaches out a hand for it. Pleasure shoots down my shaft and up my spine as his fingers graze the underside. He looks up at me with such want, it’s all I can do not to plough into him.
But I musn’t. He’s not ready for that.
Yet.
I slide two fingers into him again. There’s almost no resistance now, and he arches to meet them. He grips my shaft reflexively, and fuck, but his hand feels good.
“You’re so open for me.”
He nods furiously.
It turns to a frown when I lift his hand from my erection and replace it with my own. He reaches out again and I block him with a few outstretched fingers. “Touch yourself.”
He pauses, unsure.
“Touch yourself for me,” I repeat. “It’ll feel so good while I fuck you.”
With a staggered breath, he nods, and drops his hand to his prick.
I resist the urge to watch; I hope it can wait for another time.
“Spread your legs for me.”
He complies immediately.
“Good,” I whisper, leaning over him. “That’s right.”
My cock’s heavy in my hand. I’m so hard, and light-headed, and I half wonder if they’re related, but it’s not always the case. I don’t feel this dizzy when I’m wanking, or when it’s a stranger sucking me off behind a club somewhere. Though I’m loathe to admit it, I know viscerally that this has everything to do with him.
I withdraw my fingers and reach for the lube. Coat myself. I want to make sure this is good for him. He’ll remember this always. There’s every reason in the world to make the memory a good one.
I guide the tip to his entrance, and bite down on my lip when his hole clenches around me immediately. It wasn’t just words; he really is hungry for it.
He strokes himself tentatively, distractedly. His eyes are on my hips, focused on my pelvis with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Cock still in one hand, I brace myself with the other and press forward.
He winces. I remind myself that that’s inevitable. I know this burn. Have felt it under him before. It’s not the burn that matters, it’s what comes after. It’s a matter of fucking him so well that he comes to recognise it for the promise of pleasure.
It takes more focus than I’d like to continue. To continue slowly. Purposefully. He winces again as I press forward. “S’all right,” I reassure, hating the sound of my own slurred words. “Just wait.”
He nods, and grips my shoulder with his free hand.
Slowly, so slowly, I inch forward. He’s so slick I’m more than half tempted to slide in to the hilt and let him feel it all at once. Were I a smaller man, I might. But I’ve learned restraint the hard way and I’m already certain I don’t want this first time to be the last.
His breathing is shallow and his hand has dropped from his cock to the sheets, but he still looks so intent. I suppose determination has always been at home on his features, and why should this be any exception?
“I’m gonna fill you,” I whisper.
He nods. “Yeah. Do it.” It’s breathy and uneven, but he looks at me with such fire. “Fuck me, Malfoy.”
Something in my chest twists. Merlin, I want him, with an irrational lust that almost overcomes my cautiousness. “Yeah,” I reply, hoarse but sure. “I’m gonna fuck you, Potter.”
He locks eyes with me, and I move, press forward until I feel his pucker against my fist. I let go and slide my cock through my fingers, further into him, and further still. I can feel his body struggling to yield to me, and it makes him so tight around me, so fucking tight, and if I hadn’t already come this would be over far too soon.
He winces again as he takes a seventh inch, but he doesn’t stop me. I ought to ask him if he’s all right, but I’m not sure I still can. It’s been ages since I’ve been this deep inside anyone and it’s…I’m not sure I could still speak even if pressed.
An eighth inch disappears into his arse. He whimpers, but he cants his hips for more, too, and his hole is so open, my cock so slick, that the remaining inch slips into him like nothing.
I look down, try to hide my shock. I’m inside of him, completely.
“In?”
I nod, still looking down in a bit of awe.
“Full.” His voice sounds strained.
“Yeah?” I manage.
“Yeah.”
I don’t want to lose this, this feeling, but I have to know it’s real. I slide out an inch, and in again. I hear him hiss, but he doesn’t look pained. I try it again, and there’s another sibilant sort of half-whisper, but he meets my hips this time. He’s breathing heavily, and his chest is covered with a fine sheen of sweat, but when I don’t move again, he cants his hips, almost as if to encourage more.
I have to know. “Like that?”
He manages a breathy smile. “Yeah.”
“More?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I move with a bit more confidence this time. I’ve been in him and he likes it. I pull halfway out this time, and slide in again.
“Aah.” He reaches for my shoulder with another hiss. He’s breathing hard.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he swallows. “Yeah. Just…”
My stomach sinks. I wait for it: ‘too much,’ ‘too soon,’ ‘fingers again?’
“Faster, maybe?”
“What?” The word slips out before I freeze, and thank fuck for that because he says it again.
“Faster, I think?” He sounds fucking shy about it, like he’s asking for a favour, and how he could think that I’ll never know. “Felt good before.”
I stare down at him, amazed, but I guess it looks like something else, because he’s tentative when he speaks again.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” I force myself to respond. 'Okay' doesn’t begin to cover it. “Yeah.”
I withdraw again, and slide into him. Again, again. He wraps a leg around my back and his fingernails dig into my shoulder. The hissing is gone, replaced with heavy, shuddering breaths.
“Like that?” I barely manage it, for the sensations shooting down my shaft.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, that’s good.”
I speed up, pulling half out of him and pushing in again. The muscle of his rectum is unbelievably soft, and firm, and it feels too good for words, this.
“Yeah,” he whispers again. “So full.”
“So full,” I repeat. “Gonna fill you up.”
“Yeah, do it.”
I chance a deeper thrust this time, and he gasps. Holds me closer.
“Like that?”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“Yeah,” I repeat. “Yeah, you do.”
“Yeah,” he agrees on an exhale. He grips me tighter. “Fuck, can you, what you did before?”
“Slower?”
“No!” He smiles, a bit shyly, at his own vehemence. “Before,” he gasps, “with your fingers, when you, sort of, when you pressed up, and—?”
“Ah.” I know what he means now and, from the intensity of his reactions, hadn’t even realised I haven’t been hitting his prostate. “Yeah.”
Lifting a hand from the bed, I take his leg from my waist and slip it over my shoulder. He winces again as I bend forward to lean over him again, and I pause. “Ready?”
He nods, breathing through this new fullness.
I pull out again, and press forward.
His eyes fly open and he grips my shoulder so tightly his nails might break the skin and he makes this sound, this animalistic moan, and I know, know with certainty, that I’ve got it. And fuck if it doesn’t look amazing on him.
My hips move automatically, pumping into him. I know I’m losing some control, but he doesn’t look like he minds.
Not at all.
He’s got his head thrown back and when I roll my hips he groans so deeply his chest vibrates with it.
“More,” he gasps again. “Harder.”
Never, in my years of fucking, has anyone made that request with my cock up their arse. Some tiny, niggling part of my brain wants to be angry that it’s him.
The rest of me is too busy fucking him to care.
As requests go, this one is easy. I drive into him and he gasps, arches his back, screws his eyes shut and moans. One hand fists the sheets, the other drops from my shoulder to my arse.
“More,” he insists. “Fuck, Malfoy, more.”
I pull all the way out this time, my cock leaving his hole with a wet pop, and he looks up at me in open anguish.
That is, until I drive back into him in one hard thrust that leaves him screaming, clenching around me with such force I see stars.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, yeah.”
I’d never pinned Potter for either a masochist or a cockslut, but whichever it is, I’ll take more of it.
I drive into him again, my bollocks almost too tight now to slap against the soft muscle of his arse.
But then, I can go harder if I want them to. Can go as hard and as deep as I want, and it seems Potter will take it.
Again. I drive into him, he arches and grabs my arse and lets out one of those beautiful, unearthly, moans. And again, and again. I’m sweating too, now, can feel it as our bodies slide together, but no power on this earth could stop me from pounding into this unbelievable arse.
And still, he pants for more. I can feel myself getting closer.
“Touch yourself,” I manage, just barely.
He looks almost surprised to realise he hasn’t been. He looks down to his own dripping erection, and lifts a hand from the sheets to stroke himself.
The sight of it does something to me. I have to think of anything but this, of—, of—
Everything I can think of is too dark to belong here. And I don’t want that. Not distraction. Not darkness.
All I want is the heat of Potter’s rectum gripping my cock, and the sight of him passing a thumb over the head of his prick to smooth his precome down the shaft.
“Yeah, like that,” I manage. “Wank yourself with my cock up your arse.”
He moans and strokes harder, his eyelids fluttering shut as he does it.
I watch him as I move, harder and faster, just like he’s wanted, snapping my hips forward to bury myself in him. I can feel it coming now, unstoppable, gathering in my thighs and then—
I fall forward as I come, shooting into him. I can feel his hand still beneath me. I can hear myself moaning his name. I don’t stop rolling my hips, thrusting slowly now, as he contracts around me till I’m bone fucking dry and stunned with the force of my orgasm.
I’m almost too fucking dazed to pull out, half tempted to collapse on top of him and be done with it.
But when I glance down, I see his uncertainty, and his erection, and realise that while I’ve come twice, he’s yet to come at all.
It’s my turn to wince as I pull out of him. I’m so sensitive, so spent.
Still, I swallow when I see his hole. I’m so big, and he was so well prepared, that he’s still open for me. He’s slicked with lube and his hole is dripping as my come runs into the crease of his arse.
Experimentally, I trail a thumb over his entrance. He presses against me.
Interesting.
I look up and find him propped on his elbows, staring down at me, half unsure, half hopeful.
He wants this.
He likes this. Likes me in his arse. He wants more of it.
I don’t think I manage to hide my smile.
“Lie back,” I order, getting to my knees. He hesitates. “Lie back,” I repeat, ”Or I won’t fucking touch you.”
He drops to his back.
“Hands above your head and don’t move them.”
He obeys without argument.
I swipe my thumb over his hole again. “Like that, do you?”
He nods.
“Answer me.”
He breathes in. It’s shallow, nervous. “Yes.”
“You want more of it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to fingerfuck you with my own come, do you?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
“Say it.”
“I want –“ He swallows. “I want you to fingerfuck me with your own come.”
“Until?”
“Until, um.” He’s flushing. “UntilIcome.”
“Good.”
My thumb slides into him, up to the knuckle. “Like that?”
“Yes, but,” he falters. “It’s good, but…more?”
“More,” I repeat, sliding another half inch of thumb into his arse. “More like that?”
He shakes his head. Remembers himself. “No.”
“How, then?”
“More fingers,” he whispers.
I replace my thumb with my index and middle fingers.
He gives a contented moan, nods.
“You like that?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Yeah.”
“Think you could come just like this?”
He shakes his head. “No, need to – can I touch?”
I stop to consider. He could, I suppose, but it’s not quite the same experience, doing the work yourself. “No, you can’t.”
He looks distraught until I move to catch the tip of his cock between my lips. I give it a kiss. “Tell me now. Would you rather touch yourself?”
Wide-eyed, he shakes his head furiously.
“Didn’t think so.” I lick a strip up the underside of his shaft. He whines so beautifully. I wonder how he’d sound begging.
“Want me to suck your cock while I fuck you?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
“Manners, Potter.”
His blink turns into an eye roll. He almost smiles. I withdraw my fingers in warning and the smile vanishes instantly. “Please,” he says. “Please suck me.”
He relaxes when I slide into him again. “If I’m sucking you, you’ll have to tell me what you want.”
“Thought you knew,” he breathes, with a hint of a laugh.
I jerk my fingers up to hit his prostate again. His eyes flutter back into his head. “I do.”
He nods, gasping for breath.
“I just want to hear you beg.”
If it gives him pause, it’s not enough to outweigh the pleasure he must be feeling now. He nods. “Okay.”
I dip my two fingers into him again. “You stop, I stop.”
“’Kay,” he gasps. “Okay.”
Satisfied, I lean down to lick him again, ending at the tip of his cock and taking him in my mouth.
He moans. “Yeah, that’s good.”
I lift off and slide halfway down, letting him feel my tongue against his shaft.
He clenches around my fingers. “Don’t stop fucking me.”
He doesn’t know this, not yet, but, given my endowment, fingerfucking has become a particular mastery of mine. I crook my fingers up to hit his prostate and feel him tighten around them.
“Holy fuck, yeah, just like that.”
I stroke his prostate again, and hollow my cheeks to suck him in.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, I wanna come in your mouth.”
I hum my agreement, which only seems to move us closer to that point.
“Harder, please. And – more, can you?”
I can. I slip a third finger into him, and he’s so slippery, so open, it goes like it’s nothing. When I move to slide them out again he tightens around me, determined to keep them there. I suck him down so far he’s hitting the back of my throat, thinking it might release the grip he’s got on my fingers, but it’s quite the opposite. He bears down harder, arching his back and making it almost impossible for me to move.
But I manage, crooking the tips of my finger so his prostate is stimulated from every reachable angle, and hum around his shaft as I slide off it, and down again.
I hear a noise and look up. He’s pounded his fist into the headboard, and is pushing against it in some combination of desire and frustration. It gives him leverage, too, to grind down against my fingers. Which he does, rolling his hips with open enthusiasm.
“So close,” he gasps. “Please fuck me, please, don’t stop.”
As if I would, at this sight. His eyes are glazed, he’s glistening with sweat, I can feel his cock twitching in my mouth.
I lick down to suck his balls into my mouth. They’re high and tight and I can’t imagine we’re far off now.
“Fuck, your mouth. Please, Malfoy, need your mouth.”
The urge to tell him he already has it is strong, but I’ve got better things to do than taunt. I lick a feather-light stripe up his shaft and wait, my fingers still working against his prostate.
“Please,” he repeats.
“Suck you?”
He groans. “Yes, fuck me, suck me, please, just do it.”
“Why?” I kiss his tip again.
“Need to come. Need to – so close.”
“Tell me how.”
“Your mouth,” he says again. “Need your mouth.”
“And?”
“Fingers. Fuck me with your fingers.”
“Three?”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah. Or more. Four.”
I slip my pinkie in next to the others. “Like that.”
He gives a guttural moan. “Yeah, fuck. Big as your cock, perfect.”
My cock is showing interest, though Merlin knows we’ll both be too sore to do that again.
I twist my hand inside of him. He screams, bucking off the bed and into my waiting mouth. I suck him down, hear him punch the headboard again.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “So fucking good, I’m gonna, gonna…”
It’s all about rhythm now. I fuck my fingers into him, bob my head around his shaft, feel him clenching and gasping.
Then he’s arching off the bed, chanting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, fuck.”
He shouts, and I feel his spunk fill my mouth. I swallow with an eye to keeping up. He hits the headboard again, and lets out a guttural groan as his hips fall to the bed.
I don’t stop fucking him until he whimpers and pulls away, and I’m surprised at how acutely I feel the loss of him around me. My fingers are sticky with come and lube, and cold.
It’s almost a full minute before he manages to open his eyes. “That…” he whispers. “That was…”
He looks to me, searchingly, but I want to hear his word for this, and if he says ‘all right,’ on Slytherin’s grave, I’ll fucking slap him.
“Incredible,” he breathes.
A narrow escape.
“That was…fuck.” He blinks and props himself up. “That was so fucking good, I had no idea, no idea at all, but your cock…Merlin, your fucking cock.” He collapses back on to the bed.
Not so narrow, perhaps.
I move to lie back next to him. “Not as awful as you’d thought?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Not some painful, disgusting trial?”
“It did hurt,” he replies. “But then…”
“It always hurts a bit,” I offer, after a moment’s silence. “Burns. But if it’s worth it...”
He reaches for my arm, gives it a squeeze. “Yeah. Worth it.”
And then there’s the question I’ve never dared ask before. The answer’s always been evident, if we’ve even got that far. “Worth it again?”
My stomach drops as soon as the words are out.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Fuck yeah.” He laughs. “Your cock, Malfoy, is a thing of beauty.”
I’m glad he’s looking at the ceiling instead of my face. I doubt this particular combination of shock and smugness would be quite my best look.
“Though,” he says. I’m on the cusp of despair again – ‘though I wish it was a bit smaller?’ ‘though maybe just your fingers next time?’ - until he continues, with a nervous laugh, “don’t know how you’d be able to fuck me that long at a Ministry do.”
I swallow, shocked, again, such that words that don’t seem to be forthcoming. “True.”
“The bed thing might’ve been a good idea.”
“Yes, well. I’m full of those.”
“Apparently.” He laughs again, and out of the corner of my eye I see him rest his arms behind his head. “Can see why you had it in mind.”
“You might still be surprised at how well I could fuck you at a Ministry do.”
“Yeah.” He rolls over, propping himself on one elbow to grin down at me, his satiation tinged with challenge. “Yeah, I just might be.”
