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birdsofshoreTitle: Unexpected
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
birdsofshore
Pairing: Harry / Draco
Word count: 5 x 100
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Nothing really
Summary: Fordicta_contrion, a little recreational hair-pulling for your birthday. Thank you for being the wonder that you are: weaver of amazing words, beta extraordinaire, brilliant commenter, and creator of the hottest, dirtiest, most deliciously brain-melting smut ever. ♥
Thank you so much to lovelylumosed_quill for the help.
1.
It feels exactly as good as I thought it would. No, better. Potter’s eyes screw up tight, his breath a furious hiss as I get a big handful of hair and pull, yanking his head back.
No wands. No spells. Just fists and boots and a feverish thrum in the blood.
Far too soon, McGonagall breaks it up, but I know he’ll feel the sting on his scalp, just as I’ll bear his bruises.
Preparing for bed that night, I stare at my hand and wonder why I can still feel an unexpected softness tickling against my palm.
2.
Wasn’t expecting Potter to be at Zabini’s tonight. Wouldn’t have thought he’d be half-drunk. Didn’t guess he’d be such a laugh without Granger and Weasley there like fucking bookends. He looks rumpled, his eyes warm and sleepy like he’s rolled straight out of bed, and something in me purrs approval.
He’s waiting outside the loo after I piss. I never expected this: the hot urgent press of his body, right there against the wall. I tug him closer, his hair slightly damp and curling at the nape. Then some idiot blunders out from another room and Potter stumbles away, dazed.
3.
This bed at the Leaky Cauldron creaks like a bastard. Potter’s breathy groans mingle with the grumbling of the bedframe, and I’d hex anyone who dared to interrupt us now. Fuck, the taste of his mouth, and the tight sweet clench of his arse as he rides me. I wind both hands deep into his hair and thrust upwards, pouring ten years of frustration and resentment into his body.
I don’t last long. Not long at all. It seems obvious now that this was always going to happen. The only surprising thing is that Potter comes first, and quite untouched.
4.
“Kneel,” I tell him, and he’s at my feet in one smooth movement. He needs a haircut -- he always needs a haircut -- and I take a generous fistful and tilt his face up towards mine.
Even on his knees there’s a bold defiance about him. It’s his eyes that get me, every single time. The fearlessness, the trust…
I swallow hard. “Come on, then. Or have you forgotten how to suck my cock?”
He smirks, brazen. “Not likely. Not with all the practise I get.”
Then his lips slide around me, scrambling all thoughts, exactly as he intended.
5.
We start slow, with Harry on his stomach. My arse is still tender from last night. He looks incredible, laid out beneath me as I fuck in, deep and lingering. I gather a handful of hair, clutch it tight like a treasure, and tip his head back until the arch of his spine makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Draco,” he breathes. “More. Harder.” I give him all he asks for, until we’re a sated tangle of limbs and lazy kisses. I never expected this - no, never. And it feels better, far better, than I ever thought it could.
Author:
birdsofshorePairing: Harry / Draco
Word count: 5 x 100
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Nothing really
Summary: For
dicta_contrion, a little recreational hair-pulling for your birthday. Thank you for being the wonder that you are: weaver of amazing words, beta extraordinaire, brilliant commenter, and creator of the hottest, dirtiest, most deliciously brain-melting smut ever. ♥Thank you so much to lovely
lumosed_quill for the help.1.
It feels exactly as good as I thought it would. No, better. Potter’s eyes screw up tight, his breath a furious hiss as I get a big handful of hair and pull, yanking his head back.
No wands. No spells. Just fists and boots and a feverish thrum in the blood.
Far too soon, McGonagall breaks it up, but I know he’ll feel the sting on his scalp, just as I’ll bear his bruises.
Preparing for bed that night, I stare at my hand and wonder why I can still feel an unexpected softness tickling against my palm.
2.
Wasn’t expecting Potter to be at Zabini’s tonight. Wouldn’t have thought he’d be half-drunk. Didn’t guess he’d be such a laugh without Granger and Weasley there like fucking bookends. He looks rumpled, his eyes warm and sleepy like he’s rolled straight out of bed, and something in me purrs approval.
He’s waiting outside the loo after I piss. I never expected this: the hot urgent press of his body, right there against the wall. I tug him closer, his hair slightly damp and curling at the nape. Then some idiot blunders out from another room and Potter stumbles away, dazed.
3.
This bed at the Leaky Cauldron creaks like a bastard. Potter’s breathy groans mingle with the grumbling of the bedframe, and I’d hex anyone who dared to interrupt us now. Fuck, the taste of his mouth, and the tight sweet clench of his arse as he rides me. I wind both hands deep into his hair and thrust upwards, pouring ten years of frustration and resentment into his body.
I don’t last long. Not long at all. It seems obvious now that this was always going to happen. The only surprising thing is that Potter comes first, and quite untouched.
4.
“Kneel,” I tell him, and he’s at my feet in one smooth movement. He needs a haircut -- he always needs a haircut -- and I take a generous fistful and tilt his face up towards mine.
Even on his knees there’s a bold defiance about him. It’s his eyes that get me, every single time. The fearlessness, the trust…
I swallow hard. “Come on, then. Or have you forgotten how to suck my cock?”
He smirks, brazen. “Not likely. Not with all the practise I get.”
Then his lips slide around me, scrambling all thoughts, exactly as he intended.
5.
We start slow, with Harry on his stomach. My arse is still tender from last night. He looks incredible, laid out beneath me as I fuck in, deep and lingering. I gather a handful of hair, clutch it tight like a treasure, and tip his head back until the arch of his spine makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Draco,” he breathes. “More. Harder.” I give him all he asks for, until we’re a sated tangle of limbs and lazy kisses. I never expected this - no, never. And it feels better, far better, than I ever thought it could.
