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birdsofshoreTitle: This Unstoppable Thirst
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
birdsofshore
Pairing: Harry / Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word count ~5600
Summary: Draco really should know that things have a habit of not going according to plan, especially where Potter is concerned.
Warnings: Nothing says Happy Birthday like extremely dubious consent and hate sex. Enjoy ;-)
A/N: For the wonderfullumosed_quill, to celebrate your birthday. Here (finally) is a sequel to This Monstrous Need. I hope you have the fabulous day that you deserve. ♥
(This can be read separately from This Monstrous Need, but it's probably more enjoyable as a follow-up.)
Thanks a million toraitala, who helped so much with this that she more or less deserves a co-author credit. I've messed around with it further since then, so any mistakes are distinctly my own.
My calves are aching, and I keep having to wipe away the sweat prickling at my forehead, but I stay crouched down behind the desk and listen for sounds in the corridor outside. He's late – he walks past this classroom every Sunday evening without fail after Quidditch practice – but it would have to be today that he stayed late to talk to his adoring fans or whatever.
I reach into my pocket for what seems the hundredth time, checking the precious vial is still nestling there with its diabolical contents intact. It's the last of its kind – although, god knows, I've ransacked the potions cupboard several times looking for another.
I admit, I've been rather obsessed with the stuff ever since the day Potter and I managed to spill a dose of it. Since we discovered that even breathing the fumes makes you want to rip your fucking clothes off and hump the nearest warm body into oblivion. Trust my luck that the nearest warm body happened to be his. We ended up rutting frantically against one another. Potter would probably prefer that I forget how he moaned and gasped and clung to me, but I haven't.
His face as he came all over my fist... fuck. If it had ended there... but no. He spat at me, dared to insult me – his spunk hadn't even cooled on my fingers and the bastard was looking at me as if I were dirt under his shoe. And he's pulled the same high and mighty act every time our paths have crossed since that day, like the sight of me disgusts him.
My head throbs with tension as I run my fingers over the smooth, comforting glass of the vial, trying to calm myself. Well, let's see how long it takes for his look of revulsion to turn to hunger. Let's see whether his eyes turn away from me when his whole body is aching for mine. Let's see how Harry Potter likes me when his every nerve ending is screaming for release, when every impulse pulls him closer to me like iron to a lodestone.
And this time, I've taken the precaution of lining my stomach with an antidote. It took six weeks, but I studied every text on lust potions I could lay my hands on – and there are many, I can assure you. I had to forge Slughorn's signature to get access to the Restricted Section. I found the fucker, though – brewed the antidote with my own hands. I drank it down an hour ago, although the bitterness nearly choked me, but now I think Potter will discover that things are quite different this time. He'll be burning for me like Fiendfyre, but I could care less for him. See how he likes that.
I shall have him on his knees, begging, mewling for it. It strikes me that it might be pleasing to make him crawl on the dirty floor. Perhaps I'll get him to say things. Dirty things, filthy things that would never normally cross his lips.
My mouth has felt dry ever since I took the antidote. I suppose it's a side effect. I put out a hand against the cool wood of the desk to steady myself.
When I'm tired of toying with Potter, the first thing I'll do is to make him suck me, of course. The thought of his lips stretched around my cock sets violent shivers running through me. Maybe I'll come on his face. I want to defile every inch of him, mar the beloved bloody hero.
Sometimes I've even thought I might fuck him – I bet his arse is as tight as a miser's purse, all clenched and righteous... I imagine him trembling beneath me and crying with pain and need as I pound into him. But, no. The picture of the boy Saviour, kneeling, his face covered in my come, moaning with need for me, begging for my touch... it's simply too delicious an idea to pass up. What a glorious, perfect thing it will be.
And all I have to do is not screw this up.
There's a noise outside; I'd know those footsteps anywhere, soft and sure, and I can hear him letting his bag drag along the floor for a few steps, the way he always does before he hoists it up again.
My pulse is pounding, and I take a deep breath. “Help!” I scream, trying to sound younger. To sound terrified. “Oh, help me!” There's a silence. “Please, someone, help, oh god!”
The door flies open and he's there. I knew he would come, but even so, the sight of him makes something lurch in my chest.
He's just standing there, wand drawn, eyes scanning the room. Presumably looking for the Dark Lord or whatever it is he thinks he's saving someone from. I don't know, he looks like a nobody, like the scrawny idiot he is, but there's an undeniable power crackling from him. His face is fierce, his body tensed and ready... but I'm ready, too. Oh, Merlin, am I ready. I've been thinking of little else for six blasted weeks.
He doesn't spot me in my hiding place behind the desk. The door slams shut behind him and I aim a quick spell at it from where I'm crouched on the floor. His head whips around, but he sees nothing. His arm is poised, ready to shoot off a Hex or worse. I have to be careful or he's likely to Stun me without thinking.
“Who's there?” he asks.
“It's me,” I say quietly. “Don't cast, OK? My wand's in my pocket.” Well, it is. For now.
“What?” His body stiffens as I slowly rise into view, showing him my hands. “Malfoy? What the—” His face says it all. The twist of disgust, his face actually turning away as if he can't bear to look at me. I feel the cold, sick rage churning in the pit of my stomach. How dare he? How dare he? I'd like to kick his fucking face in, but I daren't lose control now, not now when I'm so close to victory.
I thrust my hands in my pockets, trying to make it look like a natural action as I shrug and look embarrassed. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
His face looks like he's smelled something rotten. “I don't want to talk to you.” He scowls, but he's lowered his wand arm and is turning to go. “I've got bloody feet of homework to do.”
I don't want him to turn his back on me. I want the stuff to hit him right in the face. I want him to see it happen – to see his face when he realises. I need to act now. I pull out the vial and, drawing my wand, send it in his direction, watching it turn over and over in mid-air. Shit, now.
“Potter!” I shout, and at the same time I flick my wand and send a dart of magic towards the vial. It pops beautifully, just as I've practised, its contents flying out to follow the direction of the blast, precisely as he turns to look at me. Oh, yes. It sprays directly in his face, hitting his chin, splattering onto his collar, the oily golden drops clinging to his skin and coating it with the hellish stuff. A double dose. Right under his virtuous nose.
I laugh, the elation of it bubbling in my throat. It was easy. So easy.
His face is a picture. He knows exactly what it is, and how fast he'll be out of his fucking mind with it, clawing at me for release. Oh, Merlin, yes. His face is flushing already and it's no good him scrubbing at his face to get it off. The drops are everywhere. On his hair, his shirt... it's dripping onto the floor. It's curling into his nose, determined to have its wicked way. He knows he's doomed unless he can get away from me before the effects become too intense, and just as I predicted, he makes for the door.
“Nice try, Potter...”
He rattles uselessly at the handle while prickling heat races across my skin at the thrill of having him where I want him.
“... but I'm afraid you're staying put.”
He fires a few spells at it, his hands shaking in a way that warms my heart. He must be feeling it badly already. Poor, poor, Potter. He won't get past my locking spell – I learned that one from Aunt Bella.
“Malfoy.” His face looks like he's in pain, his voice low and growly. “Open this fucking door or I'll... “ He raises his wand hand again, but it's trembling too badly for him to hold it straight.
“I really wouldn't try magic while you're under the influence of potions. Surely even you know that's highly dangerous.”
“I. Don't. Care.” His teeth are gritted, and even from across the room I can see drops of sweat are forming at his temples. He lets out a moan and curls his body in on itself for a moment, as if he's got a cramp. Oh, Merlin... his jeans are stretched over an impressive erection and there's nothing he can do to hide it. I feel my face stretch into a wide smile. As I watch, he presses his hand against his groin and a shudder runs right through him. “Christ,” he moans.
This is better than I ever dreamed it would be: so much better than all the times I pictured it. I feast my eyes on the intoxicating sight of Potter battling against his own body, stare until my head is swimming with the triumph of it.
I don't think he'll actually risk using magic, but you never can tell with Potter. I smile as he doubles over again and then disarm him, his wand flying easily from his sweaty grasp. I tuck it away in my robes with fumbling hands.
My god. I've actually done it. I'm almost dizzy at having over-powered him. I approach him, gleeful at the look on his face, wrinkling my nose at the sickly fumes of the potion which surround him. His eyes are darting across my body and then he pulls them away with what looks like a Herculean effort. But he can't keep them from me for long. His gaze drags across my face, my hair, my throat, down to the rise and fall of my chest, and up to my mouth. The air is thick with his wanting and I breathe deeply, drinking it in.
Fuck. That seemed like— no.
I take another deep breath and— oh, Salazar. My skin is burning up. It's— oh, fuck.
I can't help but breathe in and out, again; I need air, god, do I need air. It's too close in here, and I feel the tug, the unmistakeable tug towards him.
What the―? I stagger a little, trying and failing to resist the pull. Desire has hooked its jagged barb deep in my core and is dragging me forwards.
The antidote— I don't understand. I researched so painstakingly. Brewed it with the utmost care.
Potter's sagged against the wall, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his hand over his groin, moving it in slow circles, and oh, dear Salazar, it's the most provocative thing I've ever seen in my life. I want him, now. Now.
He throws his free arm over his face, as if he's trying to shield himself from the sight of me. I can't take my eyes from him, can't stop the saliva flooding my mouth at the sight of the patch of sweat darkening his shirt under the arm.
The potion is sizzling through my veins, owning me. My skin feels like there's a thousand nettles pricking at it. The only thing that will soothe me is to sink my face in Potter's neck and bathe in his scent, to tear at our clothes and mould my scalding flesh around him, to fall to my knees and bury my nose in his crotch and sniff him like an animal, to mouth at that obscene bulge I can see straining the seam of his jeans, and, oh, hell, it wasn't meant to be like this. I was never meant to want him like this.
A sob breaks from my mouth, then I'm at Potter's side. My mind is still screaming no as my body betrays me utterly. My cock presses painfully against the buttons of my fly; another second and I'd be blissfully rutting against Potter, but then his hand is at my throat, holding me away with surprising force.
“Touch me and I will kill you.” His words rasp out between ragged breaths.
Even his hand on my neck feels good, digging against my Adam's apple. Even his smell, sharp and musky, even the beads of sweat on his top lip, the dark expanse of his pupils, the jut of his biceps through his shirt as he holds me at bay. There was meant to be an antidote... but my leaking cock is telling me that there's no antidote to the raw appeal of Potter with his hackles up.
Somewhere in my mind is the thought that I could leave... the door is right there, but I can't remember the words to release the spell. Two more breaths and I don't want to remember. This is where I belong, with Potter, just heat and sweat and ache and burn, just the two of us and our impossible need for one another. My lips part and I let out a sound that expresses all my longing. My intolerable, unstoppable thirst for him.
His face contorts as if he's duelling against something within, and then his other hand jerks up and forces my robes apart.
Merlin, please, yes.
He snatches at my shirt and then his hand is against the bare skin of my stomach and, oh, god in heaven, yesss. He's throttling me with one hand and groping me shamelessly with the other, and I'm pretty sure I can come from this. From the feel of his calloused hands marauding over my skin, from his fingers digging into the tender skin of my throat.
“Why would you do this?” He forces the words out, his hand running roughly over my nipples, making me jolt as if scalded. There's no subtlety here and I want none; his savage caresses are all I could wish for. I can't speak or swallow. I can barely breathe.
“How could you, you bastard? To do this on purpose.” He's more or less snarling. “Wasn't it bad enough that it happened once?”
His hand falls from my throat and I swallow painfully around the place where it had pressed. What does he mean, once? Once was never going to be enough. How could it be?
“I've been trying to make things up with Ginny – and a bloody mess that turned out.” He uses both hands to grip my arse painfully tight, pulling our bodies together. “You. You fuck everything up. Do you know how it felt, to have her touch me, and be thinking about your hands on me instead?”
I don't give a fuck how he felt. I only care about the feel of his thick, perfect cock as he grinds it against me.
“I even had dreams about it. About what you did.” His mouth falls slack as he drags his dick across mine, our hips moving together, rocking towards what I know is going to be the best fucking orgasm of my life. “You bastard, Malfoy.” He digs his fingers in to the cheeks of my arse and I can see the pulse leaping in his throat. “You fucking, shitty bastard.”
Even his insults slide like honey against my skin, his lips close to my ear. There is nothing that he could do to me that wouldn't feel good. My body is filling with an unbearable sweetness, making me cry out and clutch at him hungrily. I'm going to come. I'm going to come so hard. I feel it building, and I think if I can just come in his hand then I might die from the pleasure of it.
I fumble at my trousers and get them and my underwear pushed down around my thighs. Potter groans as he grips my bare arse, his nails sinking into my flesh.
“And you actually set this up so it could happen again.” He shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “Shitty, Malfoy. Fucking shitty.”
“Oh, god. I'm going to come.” It's a whine, high in my bruised throat.
“No,” he says, even as he forces a knee between my legs. “No, you're not.”
“I am I am, oh fuck, I am.” I'm babbling, my voice sounds like something unravelling. “Oh, sweet holy Merlin, I'm going to come all over your fucking jeans.”
He's trembling, and partly slumped against the wall for support, but he somehow grabs my hands from where they're trapped between the cool cotton of his shirt and the roasting heat of his waist. “No. You're not.” His face is grim as he pulls our bodies apart.
It hurts to be separated, it fucking burns like Crucio. I can see it in his face that he feels it too.
He takes a shuddering breath. But even he can't fight this. Can he?
“You're not going to come until I say you are.”
It would seem he's giving it his best shot. Fucking Potter. Why can nothing ever be straightforward with him?
His hands on my wrists are strong, implacable, as I twist my body, trying desperately to get more of my skin against his. My cock is rigid, jutting at an absurd angle. His eyes follow mine and he swallows hard as we both watch a bead of pre-come swell from the tip and drop onto the floor.
He grimaces, his face dark with hostility. “When I dreamt about you... When I woke up, I was hard. I felt like cutting my own dick off.” He twists my arms up behind my back. “And now you've schemed and plotted to make it happen again.”
Everything hurts. My skin, my guts, my eyes, my fucking hair... how can he bear it?
“Well, if it's got to happen, I think I might as well get what I want out of it.”
The very marrow of my bones aches. I want him so badly. I swear, if he doesn't touch me soon... “God, please,” I moan. “You arsehole, just touch me. Let me— god, I'll even suck you. Just do it, you stupid tosser.”
He closes his eyes for a minute and sways where he stands, his sweaty hair falling in his face, then, as his eyes snap open, he reaches unerringly into my robes and finds the pocket where I stashed his wand.
He brings it to my throat, where it digs in, unyielding and harsh. He shuffles me backwards until the back of my knees hit one of the desks.
“Turn around.” His voice is rushed, breathless. It sounds like he's on the edge, like a man about to lose control. “Get your robes off.” I let them drop onto the floor, the fabric rustling as it falls in a pool around my feet. His breath catches and he's quiet for a moment.
“I don't give a stuff if my magic's affected. I'm going to tie you up, and then...”
He gets me facing the desk and then coarse ropes twist around my wrists, pulling so tight that the bones jar against one another.
“Should feel bad, doing this.” I hear the clink of his belt buckle, the rasp of a zip being pulled down. Then he's pushing my shirt-tails aside.
Merlin—
“I should feel bad... but I don't.”
His cock is dragging against the crease of my arse. I remember how thick it is. I remember everything. I drop my head and moan. My stomach is tight with fear, even as my bloody traitorous arse pushes out towards him, greedy for his touch.
“I feel fucking great,” Potter whispers against my back, bending me how he wants me, yanking my clothes out of the way. “And you deserve every inch of this, Malfoy, you bastard.”
“Potter...” I feel cold shivers down my spine. His cock's nudging at my entrance, persistent, forceful. It's thick... too thick, the meaty, swollen head smearing pre-come across my hole and oh, god, I want it and fear it at the same time.
He presses forwards and I try to wriggle away, but am held firm by his hand in the small of my back, “God, Potter. God, please...” I don't know if I'm begging him to stop or carry on.
“It's all screwed up with Ginny. Seems like you're the only one who wants me now.” I hear him spit into his hand, once, twice, and then he's holding me by the hips and manoeuvring inside me. A strangled sound rises from his throat as he manages to get the width of his saliva-slicked cockhead past the initial tightness.
I want to yell. I want to die. I want to curse that potion to the bottom of the sea. And I want Potter – Potter's fat cock – I want it so badly that I think I might never stop wanting it.
He shoves all the way inside, and just stays there, his hands gripping me tight as if he might fall, and oh hell, it burns. It's almost worse than the feeling of being apart from him, and I feel my body shaking at the intrusion, but ah, the fullness is something fierce and beautiful and shocking. I'm making little gasps and I'm wondering if this might break me, but then he moves, and I know it will.
It's like being in a maelstrom. I can't even brace myself, with my hands pinioned behind me. I just have to take it. To let myself be rocked back and forth by the force of his movements. To feel the edge of the desk colliding with my ribcage and then the ruthless slam of his cock and the press of his thighs against me, again and again and again and again until I think my body is liquefying.
The fury and the joy of it. Who knew Harry Potter would fuck like this? It snatches the air from my lungs, the thoughts from my head.
It shouldn't feel this good. I don't want him to know what he's doing to me, how my whole body is bursting with an unbearable bliss. But I can't hide it, and there is nothing I can do to stop the urgent, avid cries that pour from my mouth, raw and shameful.
When he speaks, vibrations rumble through me, sending hot thrills soaring up and down my spine.
“Merlin. Who would have thought you could want my cock so bad, Malfoy?” The gloating words seem to spur him on; he keeps nothing back, nothing at all. He gives me everything, his rage, and his passion, his fire and his hatred.
“I suppose I'll dream about this, now. You, bent over the desk like this... fuck. You begging me for it. Like you can't live without it.”
My cheeks flare with shame, but part of me glories in the way he's letting go. I want it all. There must be years of resentment and enmity fuelling the blistering power of his strokes, and I take it all, and welcome every bit.
My balls are high and tight, the pressure building and building. My cock slaps needy and neglected against the wood of the desk, but I'm close, so close, and as I feel Potter's teeth sink into my shoulder, I moan loud and long. “Yes, fuck, yes, more, yes, yes, yes...”
I wasn't sure he had anything left to give, but from somewhere dark, somewhere murky inside him, he dredges up something turbulent and potent. He fucks into me with a vicious devotion, hissing into my ear: “Come, Malfoy, come now, damn you.”
I come with a searing rapture that floods my body like a curse. I doubt I'll ever feel anything like it again if I live to be a hundred.
Potter breath stutters as I clench around him, helpless sounds spilling from his mouth like water tumbling from a barrel. The sounds become words, and his hips slow for a few strokes, as if he's savouring the last few seconds. “Malfoy, you gorgeous, filthy fuck. You twisted, rotten bastard, you're so tight... God, I knew it would be like this. I'm coming. Oh, god...”
He judders and groans, a long, wanton sound that comes from somewhere deep within. He curls his body against my spine as his cock pulses hot and strong inside me. Such an intimate, forbidden moment. I shiver, and close my eyes, and memorise his weight on me and the feel of his lips, hot against my neck.
The room is quiet except for our breath, out of control at first, but slowing to something calmer. Potter's hands stroke along my sides, like the promise of tenderness, and then he's pulling out of me with sickening speed and stuffing his still-hard cock back into his jeans.
I turn around. His face is tight, his mouth a sullen line. His eyes slide away from me and he zips up and fastens his belt quickly, like he's bolting a door when thieves are about.
I stare blankly at the wall, pushing down the nauseous emptiness, the shame. He hasn't won. He hasn't. I heard what he said. I felt him lay himself bare. He wanted it, just like me. He loved it. Just like me.
I straighten up, wincing. I think I'm going to need a healing spell. Without looking at me, Potter flicks his wand to release the cords holding my wrists, and I bend to pull up my underwear. Fuck, yes, I will need one. I can't help grunting at the pain.
“Did I hurt you?” He looks sicker and more angry than ever.
“What do you think?” I sneer. I hate him knowing. It makes me feel weak.
He frowns, and spits the words out. “Well, what did you expect with a pocket full of fuck-potion thrown in my face? Flowers?” But his face is sombre, and his mouth droops at the corners.
I carry on dressing in silence, moving carefully. Part of me keeps wondering – what went wrong with the bloody antidote? But I suppose it hardly matters, now.
“You shouldn't have done it, Malfoy.” He's tucking in his shirt with brisk, impatient movements.
Really, is that it? Is that the best he can come up with?
“I can't –” He grabs empty air with his fists. “I can't bloody control myself around you. Never have been able to, never will.”
I stare at him, but he keeps his eyes on the floor.
His voice is low and resentful. “There's just something about you.”
An odd buoyancy stirs within me, as if my heart is being tugged from above.
He carries on, his face serious. “We should keep away from each other.”
I think I must be smirking, because he glares at me. “Fuck's sake. I mean it.”
“I know.” I finish fastening my robes.
He rakes his hands through his hair and then tries to smooth it down.
I can't resist a jibe. “You're wasting your time there.”
“Look.” His eyes flash that breath-taking green. “Don't use that fucking potion again.”
I don't tell him that was the last of it, that there's no more, although I've ransacked the potions cupboard several times. I didn't save even a drop. I thought this would be enough, I thought I'd have him just how I wanted him, and then―
I can't even bear to think about it.
“If you want this...” His face screws up in disgust. “If you want it, for god's sake, Malfoy, ask me.”
I think I actually lurch back in surprise.
His face is thundery. “I'm not saying I'll say yes.”
What the fuck? Is this just some kind of new way to humiliate me?
“I don't... I don't know what I'd say, to be honest.” He frowns at the floor, then looks at me defiantly.
“Just... ask me. OK?” His Adam's apple bobs. “I— Maybe we ought to— to see— Shit. I must be going round the twist. How long does that stuff last, anyway?” He shakes his head as if to clear it.
I tilt my chin, look him in the eye. “It wears off immediately after orgasm.”
His bottom lip juts out as he considers this. “OK,” he says, after a while. “Well, I have to go to the library. So you can undo your fancy lock spell now.”
I mutter the incantation to release the door, and it springs open.
He opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head and walks towards the door. He mutters, more to himself than me. “It probably wouldn't be any good without the potion, anyway.”
“Like fuck it wouldn't.” The words burst out – I didn't even know I was going to say it, but for god's sake, I think Potter's exceeded his quota of self-delusion for this week.
He looks at me like I've Hexed him, his eyebrows low and mutinous. I glower right back at him. We must look a right sight, facing off like this. We've done it fifty, a hundred times before. But never like this, with his come slithering out of my arse, with the prints of his fingers on my hips like brands, to tell the world how he poured all of that fury and desire into my body.
“You weren't on any potion when you dreamed about me.” I say it quiet and sly.
“You little shit.” And he's drawn his wand again.
It's grown so tired, this game we play. I can't deny it would feel so good, to Hex him, to send him flying to the floor and mash that infuriating face into the dirt, see those fine green eyes swollen and bloodshot. But now, I suspect we have added some new moves to our repertoire for when we feel pushed to the limits. The sweet satisfying pain of teeth in flesh, the slap of skin on skin, the aching, punishing stretch of a cock.
“That was just— Potions can have after-effects,” he grits out. “We learned that in first year.”
“You go on believing that.” I wonder how far I can goad him. My wand's ready, loose and poised in my hand. “You make it up with Ginny, and try your best not to think about me when you're wallowing in her freckly cunt. Then you can dream all night of cock and arse while you tell yourself what a good little hero you are.”
“Don't talk about her, you filthy wanker.” His eyes are glinting, his face alight. I like him a lot better this way than when he wouldn't look at me at all. “God, how did I think— You're impossible,” he says.
“You thought this would be something easy, something good?” I'm shouting, now, but he needs to know. He's such a fucking fool. “You thought this was going to be nice?”
He shoots me a look of incensed frustration, but before he can speak, I'm at his side and forcing a brutal kiss against his open mouth. Fuck. His mouth is soft and surprised at first, then quickly becomes as fierce and hungry as my own. He tastes sweet, warm, addictive. I want to slam him up against the wall and gnaw his fucking face off.
My hands are in his hair, clenching tight, before he pushes me away, gasping for breath, his pupils black and wide enough to drown in.
“I suppose you think these are the after-effects,” I sneer.
He screws up his face and turns his head away, but I can see his chest heaving. I can smell the salty, slick sweat trickling down his back.
“I can still feel you inside me.” I force it into his ear like the threat that it is.
“You— I— Ugh.” He pushes me away, his hands shaking. Then he's out of the door, and I can hear his footsteps pounding down the stairs, and then nothing but my own heart banging against my chest.
So.
That's it, then, for now at least.
I look around the room, noticing a chair that we must have knocked over at some point, desks pushed askew. The air feels charged as it sometimes does after a duel, as though it would only take one spark to ignite the whole place.
The potion is still spattered amongst a sprinkling of broken glass. My come is smeared across the desk, while mud from Potter's shoes streaks the floor.
I rub angrily at the grazes of rope burn on my wrists. Damn him. Damn him to hell. What is it about him that makes me want him more each time?
I grind my shoe into the mess on the floor, feeling the sickening crunch of glass against the sole.
I leave everything exactly as it is, like a testament, like an accusation, and walk out.
Author:
birdsofshorePairing: Harry / Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word count ~5600
Summary: Draco really should know that things have a habit of not going according to plan, especially where Potter is concerned.
Warnings: Nothing says Happy Birthday like extremely dubious consent and hate sex. Enjoy ;-)
A/N: For the wonderful
lumosed_quill, to celebrate your birthday. Here (finally) is a sequel to This Monstrous Need. I hope you have the fabulous day that you deserve. ♥(This can be read separately from This Monstrous Need, but it's probably more enjoyable as a follow-up.)
Thanks a million to
raitala, who helped so much with this that she more or less deserves a co-author credit. I've messed around with it further since then, so any mistakes are distinctly my own.***
My calves are aching, and I keep having to wipe away the sweat prickling at my forehead, but I stay crouched down behind the desk and listen for sounds in the corridor outside. He's late – he walks past this classroom every Sunday evening without fail after Quidditch practice – but it would have to be today that he stayed late to talk to his adoring fans or whatever.
I reach into my pocket for what seems the hundredth time, checking the precious vial is still nestling there with its diabolical contents intact. It's the last of its kind – although, god knows, I've ransacked the potions cupboard several times looking for another.
I admit, I've been rather obsessed with the stuff ever since the day Potter and I managed to spill a dose of it. Since we discovered that even breathing the fumes makes you want to rip your fucking clothes off and hump the nearest warm body into oblivion. Trust my luck that the nearest warm body happened to be his. We ended up rutting frantically against one another. Potter would probably prefer that I forget how he moaned and gasped and clung to me, but I haven't.
His face as he came all over my fist... fuck. If it had ended there... but no. He spat at me, dared to insult me – his spunk hadn't even cooled on my fingers and the bastard was looking at me as if I were dirt under his shoe. And he's pulled the same high and mighty act every time our paths have crossed since that day, like the sight of me disgusts him.
My head throbs with tension as I run my fingers over the smooth, comforting glass of the vial, trying to calm myself. Well, let's see how long it takes for his look of revulsion to turn to hunger. Let's see whether his eyes turn away from me when his whole body is aching for mine. Let's see how Harry Potter likes me when his every nerve ending is screaming for release, when every impulse pulls him closer to me like iron to a lodestone.
And this time, I've taken the precaution of lining my stomach with an antidote. It took six weeks, but I studied every text on lust potions I could lay my hands on – and there are many, I can assure you. I had to forge Slughorn's signature to get access to the Restricted Section. I found the fucker, though – brewed the antidote with my own hands. I drank it down an hour ago, although the bitterness nearly choked me, but now I think Potter will discover that things are quite different this time. He'll be burning for me like Fiendfyre, but I could care less for him. See how he likes that.
I shall have him on his knees, begging, mewling for it. It strikes me that it might be pleasing to make him crawl on the dirty floor. Perhaps I'll get him to say things. Dirty things, filthy things that would never normally cross his lips.
My mouth has felt dry ever since I took the antidote. I suppose it's a side effect. I put out a hand against the cool wood of the desk to steady myself.
When I'm tired of toying with Potter, the first thing I'll do is to make him suck me, of course. The thought of his lips stretched around my cock sets violent shivers running through me. Maybe I'll come on his face. I want to defile every inch of him, mar the beloved bloody hero.
Sometimes I've even thought I might fuck him – I bet his arse is as tight as a miser's purse, all clenched and righteous... I imagine him trembling beneath me and crying with pain and need as I pound into him. But, no. The picture of the boy Saviour, kneeling, his face covered in my come, moaning with need for me, begging for my touch... it's simply too delicious an idea to pass up. What a glorious, perfect thing it will be.
And all I have to do is not screw this up.
There's a noise outside; I'd know those footsteps anywhere, soft and sure, and I can hear him letting his bag drag along the floor for a few steps, the way he always does before he hoists it up again.
My pulse is pounding, and I take a deep breath. “Help!” I scream, trying to sound younger. To sound terrified. “Oh, help me!” There's a silence. “Please, someone, help, oh god!”
The door flies open and he's there. I knew he would come, but even so, the sight of him makes something lurch in my chest.
He's just standing there, wand drawn, eyes scanning the room. Presumably looking for the Dark Lord or whatever it is he thinks he's saving someone from. I don't know, he looks like a nobody, like the scrawny idiot he is, but there's an undeniable power crackling from him. His face is fierce, his body tensed and ready... but I'm ready, too. Oh, Merlin, am I ready. I've been thinking of little else for six blasted weeks.
He doesn't spot me in my hiding place behind the desk. The door slams shut behind him and I aim a quick spell at it from where I'm crouched on the floor. His head whips around, but he sees nothing. His arm is poised, ready to shoot off a Hex or worse. I have to be careful or he's likely to Stun me without thinking.
“Who's there?” he asks.
“It's me,” I say quietly. “Don't cast, OK? My wand's in my pocket.” Well, it is. For now.
“What?” His body stiffens as I slowly rise into view, showing him my hands. “Malfoy? What the—” His face says it all. The twist of disgust, his face actually turning away as if he can't bear to look at me. I feel the cold, sick rage churning in the pit of my stomach. How dare he? How dare he? I'd like to kick his fucking face in, but I daren't lose control now, not now when I'm so close to victory.
I thrust my hands in my pockets, trying to make it look like a natural action as I shrug and look embarrassed. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
His face looks like he's smelled something rotten. “I don't want to talk to you.” He scowls, but he's lowered his wand arm and is turning to go. “I've got bloody feet of homework to do.”
I don't want him to turn his back on me. I want the stuff to hit him right in the face. I want him to see it happen – to see his face when he realises. I need to act now. I pull out the vial and, drawing my wand, send it in his direction, watching it turn over and over in mid-air. Shit, now.
“Potter!” I shout, and at the same time I flick my wand and send a dart of magic towards the vial. It pops beautifully, just as I've practised, its contents flying out to follow the direction of the blast, precisely as he turns to look at me. Oh, yes. It sprays directly in his face, hitting his chin, splattering onto his collar, the oily golden drops clinging to his skin and coating it with the hellish stuff. A double dose. Right under his virtuous nose.
I laugh, the elation of it bubbling in my throat. It was easy. So easy.
His face is a picture. He knows exactly what it is, and how fast he'll be out of his fucking mind with it, clawing at me for release. Oh, Merlin, yes. His face is flushing already and it's no good him scrubbing at his face to get it off. The drops are everywhere. On his hair, his shirt... it's dripping onto the floor. It's curling into his nose, determined to have its wicked way. He knows he's doomed unless he can get away from me before the effects become too intense, and just as I predicted, he makes for the door.
“Nice try, Potter...”
He rattles uselessly at the handle while prickling heat races across my skin at the thrill of having him where I want him.
“... but I'm afraid you're staying put.”
He fires a few spells at it, his hands shaking in a way that warms my heart. He must be feeling it badly already. Poor, poor, Potter. He won't get past my locking spell – I learned that one from Aunt Bella.
“Malfoy.” His face looks like he's in pain, his voice low and growly. “Open this fucking door or I'll... “ He raises his wand hand again, but it's trembling too badly for him to hold it straight.
“I really wouldn't try magic while you're under the influence of potions. Surely even you know that's highly dangerous.”
“I. Don't. Care.” His teeth are gritted, and even from across the room I can see drops of sweat are forming at his temples. He lets out a moan and curls his body in on itself for a moment, as if he's got a cramp. Oh, Merlin... his jeans are stretched over an impressive erection and there's nothing he can do to hide it. I feel my face stretch into a wide smile. As I watch, he presses his hand against his groin and a shudder runs right through him. “Christ,” he moans.
This is better than I ever dreamed it would be: so much better than all the times I pictured it. I feast my eyes on the intoxicating sight of Potter battling against his own body, stare until my head is swimming with the triumph of it.
I don't think he'll actually risk using magic, but you never can tell with Potter. I smile as he doubles over again and then disarm him, his wand flying easily from his sweaty grasp. I tuck it away in my robes with fumbling hands.
My god. I've actually done it. I'm almost dizzy at having over-powered him. I approach him, gleeful at the look on his face, wrinkling my nose at the sickly fumes of the potion which surround him. His eyes are darting across my body and then he pulls them away with what looks like a Herculean effort. But he can't keep them from me for long. His gaze drags across my face, my hair, my throat, down to the rise and fall of my chest, and up to my mouth. The air is thick with his wanting and I breathe deeply, drinking it in.
Fuck. That seemed like— no.
I take another deep breath and— oh, Salazar. My skin is burning up. It's— oh, fuck.
I can't help but breathe in and out, again; I need air, god, do I need air. It's too close in here, and I feel the tug, the unmistakeable tug towards him.
What the―? I stagger a little, trying and failing to resist the pull. Desire has hooked its jagged barb deep in my core and is dragging me forwards.
The antidote— I don't understand. I researched so painstakingly. Brewed it with the utmost care.
Potter's sagged against the wall, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his hand over his groin, moving it in slow circles, and oh, dear Salazar, it's the most provocative thing I've ever seen in my life. I want him, now. Now.
He throws his free arm over his face, as if he's trying to shield himself from the sight of me. I can't take my eyes from him, can't stop the saliva flooding my mouth at the sight of the patch of sweat darkening his shirt under the arm.
The potion is sizzling through my veins, owning me. My skin feels like there's a thousand nettles pricking at it. The only thing that will soothe me is to sink my face in Potter's neck and bathe in his scent, to tear at our clothes and mould my scalding flesh around him, to fall to my knees and bury my nose in his crotch and sniff him like an animal, to mouth at that obscene bulge I can see straining the seam of his jeans, and, oh, hell, it wasn't meant to be like this. I was never meant to want him like this.
A sob breaks from my mouth, then I'm at Potter's side. My mind is still screaming no as my body betrays me utterly. My cock presses painfully against the buttons of my fly; another second and I'd be blissfully rutting against Potter, but then his hand is at my throat, holding me away with surprising force.
“Touch me and I will kill you.” His words rasp out between ragged breaths.
Even his hand on my neck feels good, digging against my Adam's apple. Even his smell, sharp and musky, even the beads of sweat on his top lip, the dark expanse of his pupils, the jut of his biceps through his shirt as he holds me at bay. There was meant to be an antidote... but my leaking cock is telling me that there's no antidote to the raw appeal of Potter with his hackles up.
Somewhere in my mind is the thought that I could leave... the door is right there, but I can't remember the words to release the spell. Two more breaths and I don't want to remember. This is where I belong, with Potter, just heat and sweat and ache and burn, just the two of us and our impossible need for one another. My lips part and I let out a sound that expresses all my longing. My intolerable, unstoppable thirst for him.
His face contorts as if he's duelling against something within, and then his other hand jerks up and forces my robes apart.
Merlin, please, yes.
He snatches at my shirt and then his hand is against the bare skin of my stomach and, oh, god in heaven, yesss. He's throttling me with one hand and groping me shamelessly with the other, and I'm pretty sure I can come from this. From the feel of his calloused hands marauding over my skin, from his fingers digging into the tender skin of my throat.
“Why would you do this?” He forces the words out, his hand running roughly over my nipples, making me jolt as if scalded. There's no subtlety here and I want none; his savage caresses are all I could wish for. I can't speak or swallow. I can barely breathe.
“How could you, you bastard? To do this on purpose.” He's more or less snarling. “Wasn't it bad enough that it happened once?”
His hand falls from my throat and I swallow painfully around the place where it had pressed. What does he mean, once? Once was never going to be enough. How could it be?
“I've been trying to make things up with Ginny – and a bloody mess that turned out.” He uses both hands to grip my arse painfully tight, pulling our bodies together. “You. You fuck everything up. Do you know how it felt, to have her touch me, and be thinking about your hands on me instead?”
I don't give a fuck how he felt. I only care about the feel of his thick, perfect cock as he grinds it against me.
“I even had dreams about it. About what you did.” His mouth falls slack as he drags his dick across mine, our hips moving together, rocking towards what I know is going to be the best fucking orgasm of my life. “You bastard, Malfoy.” He digs his fingers in to the cheeks of my arse and I can see the pulse leaping in his throat. “You fucking, shitty bastard.”
Even his insults slide like honey against my skin, his lips close to my ear. There is nothing that he could do to me that wouldn't feel good. My body is filling with an unbearable sweetness, making me cry out and clutch at him hungrily. I'm going to come. I'm going to come so hard. I feel it building, and I think if I can just come in his hand then I might die from the pleasure of it.
I fumble at my trousers and get them and my underwear pushed down around my thighs. Potter groans as he grips my bare arse, his nails sinking into my flesh.
“And you actually set this up so it could happen again.” He shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “Shitty, Malfoy. Fucking shitty.”
“Oh, god. I'm going to come.” It's a whine, high in my bruised throat.
“No,” he says, even as he forces a knee between my legs. “No, you're not.”
“I am I am, oh fuck, I am.” I'm babbling, my voice sounds like something unravelling. “Oh, sweet holy Merlin, I'm going to come all over your fucking jeans.”
He's trembling, and partly slumped against the wall for support, but he somehow grabs my hands from where they're trapped between the cool cotton of his shirt and the roasting heat of his waist. “No. You're not.” His face is grim as he pulls our bodies apart.
It hurts to be separated, it fucking burns like Crucio. I can see it in his face that he feels it too.
He takes a shuddering breath. But even he can't fight this. Can he?
“You're not going to come until I say you are.”
It would seem he's giving it his best shot. Fucking Potter. Why can nothing ever be straightforward with him?
His hands on my wrists are strong, implacable, as I twist my body, trying desperately to get more of my skin against his. My cock is rigid, jutting at an absurd angle. His eyes follow mine and he swallows hard as we both watch a bead of pre-come swell from the tip and drop onto the floor.
He grimaces, his face dark with hostility. “When I dreamt about you... When I woke up, I was hard. I felt like cutting my own dick off.” He twists my arms up behind my back. “And now you've schemed and plotted to make it happen again.”
Everything hurts. My skin, my guts, my eyes, my fucking hair... how can he bear it?
“Well, if it's got to happen, I think I might as well get what I want out of it.”
The very marrow of my bones aches. I want him so badly. I swear, if he doesn't touch me soon... “God, please,” I moan. “You arsehole, just touch me. Let me— god, I'll even suck you. Just do it, you stupid tosser.”
He closes his eyes for a minute and sways where he stands, his sweaty hair falling in his face, then, as his eyes snap open, he reaches unerringly into my robes and finds the pocket where I stashed his wand.
He brings it to my throat, where it digs in, unyielding and harsh. He shuffles me backwards until the back of my knees hit one of the desks.
“Turn around.” His voice is rushed, breathless. It sounds like he's on the edge, like a man about to lose control. “Get your robes off.” I let them drop onto the floor, the fabric rustling as it falls in a pool around my feet. His breath catches and he's quiet for a moment.
“I don't give a stuff if my magic's affected. I'm going to tie you up, and then...”
He gets me facing the desk and then coarse ropes twist around my wrists, pulling so tight that the bones jar against one another.
“Should feel bad, doing this.” I hear the clink of his belt buckle, the rasp of a zip being pulled down. Then he's pushing my shirt-tails aside.
Merlin—
“I should feel bad... but I don't.”
His cock is dragging against the crease of my arse. I remember how thick it is. I remember everything. I drop my head and moan. My stomach is tight with fear, even as my bloody traitorous arse pushes out towards him, greedy for his touch.
“I feel fucking great,” Potter whispers against my back, bending me how he wants me, yanking my clothes out of the way. “And you deserve every inch of this, Malfoy, you bastard.”
“Potter...” I feel cold shivers down my spine. His cock's nudging at my entrance, persistent, forceful. It's thick... too thick, the meaty, swollen head smearing pre-come across my hole and oh, god, I want it and fear it at the same time.
He presses forwards and I try to wriggle away, but am held firm by his hand in the small of my back, “God, Potter. God, please...” I don't know if I'm begging him to stop or carry on.
“It's all screwed up with Ginny. Seems like you're the only one who wants me now.” I hear him spit into his hand, once, twice, and then he's holding me by the hips and manoeuvring inside me. A strangled sound rises from his throat as he manages to get the width of his saliva-slicked cockhead past the initial tightness.
I want to yell. I want to die. I want to curse that potion to the bottom of the sea. And I want Potter – Potter's fat cock – I want it so badly that I think I might never stop wanting it.
He shoves all the way inside, and just stays there, his hands gripping me tight as if he might fall, and oh hell, it burns. It's almost worse than the feeling of being apart from him, and I feel my body shaking at the intrusion, but ah, the fullness is something fierce and beautiful and shocking. I'm making little gasps and I'm wondering if this might break me, but then he moves, and I know it will.
It's like being in a maelstrom. I can't even brace myself, with my hands pinioned behind me. I just have to take it. To let myself be rocked back and forth by the force of his movements. To feel the edge of the desk colliding with my ribcage and then the ruthless slam of his cock and the press of his thighs against me, again and again and again and again until I think my body is liquefying.
The fury and the joy of it. Who knew Harry Potter would fuck like this? It snatches the air from my lungs, the thoughts from my head.
It shouldn't feel this good. I don't want him to know what he's doing to me, how my whole body is bursting with an unbearable bliss. But I can't hide it, and there is nothing I can do to stop the urgent, avid cries that pour from my mouth, raw and shameful.
When he speaks, vibrations rumble through me, sending hot thrills soaring up and down my spine.
“Merlin. Who would have thought you could want my cock so bad, Malfoy?” The gloating words seem to spur him on; he keeps nothing back, nothing at all. He gives me everything, his rage, and his passion, his fire and his hatred.
“I suppose I'll dream about this, now. You, bent over the desk like this... fuck. You begging me for it. Like you can't live without it.”
My cheeks flare with shame, but part of me glories in the way he's letting go. I want it all. There must be years of resentment and enmity fuelling the blistering power of his strokes, and I take it all, and welcome every bit.
My balls are high and tight, the pressure building and building. My cock slaps needy and neglected against the wood of the desk, but I'm close, so close, and as I feel Potter's teeth sink into my shoulder, I moan loud and long. “Yes, fuck, yes, more, yes, yes, yes...”
I wasn't sure he had anything left to give, but from somewhere dark, somewhere murky inside him, he dredges up something turbulent and potent. He fucks into me with a vicious devotion, hissing into my ear: “Come, Malfoy, come now, damn you.”
I come with a searing rapture that floods my body like a curse. I doubt I'll ever feel anything like it again if I live to be a hundred.
Potter breath stutters as I clench around him, helpless sounds spilling from his mouth like water tumbling from a barrel. The sounds become words, and his hips slow for a few strokes, as if he's savouring the last few seconds. “Malfoy, you gorgeous, filthy fuck. You twisted, rotten bastard, you're so tight... God, I knew it would be like this. I'm coming. Oh, god...”
He judders and groans, a long, wanton sound that comes from somewhere deep within. He curls his body against my spine as his cock pulses hot and strong inside me. Such an intimate, forbidden moment. I shiver, and close my eyes, and memorise his weight on me and the feel of his lips, hot against my neck.
The room is quiet except for our breath, out of control at first, but slowing to something calmer. Potter's hands stroke along my sides, like the promise of tenderness, and then he's pulling out of me with sickening speed and stuffing his still-hard cock back into his jeans.
I turn around. His face is tight, his mouth a sullen line. His eyes slide away from me and he zips up and fastens his belt quickly, like he's bolting a door when thieves are about.
I stare blankly at the wall, pushing down the nauseous emptiness, the shame. He hasn't won. He hasn't. I heard what he said. I felt him lay himself bare. He wanted it, just like me. He loved it. Just like me.
I straighten up, wincing. I think I'm going to need a healing spell. Without looking at me, Potter flicks his wand to release the cords holding my wrists, and I bend to pull up my underwear. Fuck, yes, I will need one. I can't help grunting at the pain.
“Did I hurt you?” He looks sicker and more angry than ever.
“What do you think?” I sneer. I hate him knowing. It makes me feel weak.
He frowns, and spits the words out. “Well, what did you expect with a pocket full of fuck-potion thrown in my face? Flowers?” But his face is sombre, and his mouth droops at the corners.
I carry on dressing in silence, moving carefully. Part of me keeps wondering – what went wrong with the bloody antidote? But I suppose it hardly matters, now.
“You shouldn't have done it, Malfoy.” He's tucking in his shirt with brisk, impatient movements.
Really, is that it? Is that the best he can come up with?
“I can't –” He grabs empty air with his fists. “I can't bloody control myself around you. Never have been able to, never will.”
I stare at him, but he keeps his eyes on the floor.
His voice is low and resentful. “There's just something about you.”
An odd buoyancy stirs within me, as if my heart is being tugged from above.
He carries on, his face serious. “We should keep away from each other.”
I think I must be smirking, because he glares at me. “Fuck's sake. I mean it.”
“I know.” I finish fastening my robes.
He rakes his hands through his hair and then tries to smooth it down.
I can't resist a jibe. “You're wasting your time there.”
“Look.” His eyes flash that breath-taking green. “Don't use that fucking potion again.”
I don't tell him that was the last of it, that there's no more, although I've ransacked the potions cupboard several times. I didn't save even a drop. I thought this would be enough, I thought I'd have him just how I wanted him, and then―
I can't even bear to think about it.
“If you want this...” His face screws up in disgust. “If you want it, for god's sake, Malfoy, ask me.”
I think I actually lurch back in surprise.
His face is thundery. “I'm not saying I'll say yes.”
What the fuck? Is this just some kind of new way to humiliate me?
“I don't... I don't know what I'd say, to be honest.” He frowns at the floor, then looks at me defiantly.
“Just... ask me. OK?” His Adam's apple bobs. “I— Maybe we ought to— to see— Shit. I must be going round the twist. How long does that stuff last, anyway?” He shakes his head as if to clear it.
I tilt my chin, look him in the eye. “It wears off immediately after orgasm.”
His bottom lip juts out as he considers this. “OK,” he says, after a while. “Well, I have to go to the library. So you can undo your fancy lock spell now.”
I mutter the incantation to release the door, and it springs open.
He opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head and walks towards the door. He mutters, more to himself than me. “It probably wouldn't be any good without the potion, anyway.”
“Like fuck it wouldn't.” The words burst out – I didn't even know I was going to say it, but for god's sake, I think Potter's exceeded his quota of self-delusion for this week.
He looks at me like I've Hexed him, his eyebrows low and mutinous. I glower right back at him. We must look a right sight, facing off like this. We've done it fifty, a hundred times before. But never like this, with his come slithering out of my arse, with the prints of his fingers on my hips like brands, to tell the world how he poured all of that fury and desire into my body.
“You weren't on any potion when you dreamed about me.” I say it quiet and sly.
“You little shit.” And he's drawn his wand again.
It's grown so tired, this game we play. I can't deny it would feel so good, to Hex him, to send him flying to the floor and mash that infuriating face into the dirt, see those fine green eyes swollen and bloodshot. But now, I suspect we have added some new moves to our repertoire for when we feel pushed to the limits. The sweet satisfying pain of teeth in flesh, the slap of skin on skin, the aching, punishing stretch of a cock.
“That was just— Potions can have after-effects,” he grits out. “We learned that in first year.”
“You go on believing that.” I wonder how far I can goad him. My wand's ready, loose and poised in my hand. “You make it up with Ginny, and try your best not to think about me when you're wallowing in her freckly cunt. Then you can dream all night of cock and arse while you tell yourself what a good little hero you are.”
“Don't talk about her, you filthy wanker.” His eyes are glinting, his face alight. I like him a lot better this way than when he wouldn't look at me at all. “God, how did I think— You're impossible,” he says.
“You thought this would be something easy, something good?” I'm shouting, now, but he needs to know. He's such a fucking fool. “You thought this was going to be nice?”
He shoots me a look of incensed frustration, but before he can speak, I'm at his side and forcing a brutal kiss against his open mouth. Fuck. His mouth is soft and surprised at first, then quickly becomes as fierce and hungry as my own. He tastes sweet, warm, addictive. I want to slam him up against the wall and gnaw his fucking face off.
My hands are in his hair, clenching tight, before he pushes me away, gasping for breath, his pupils black and wide enough to drown in.
“I suppose you think these are the after-effects,” I sneer.
He screws up his face and turns his head away, but I can see his chest heaving. I can smell the salty, slick sweat trickling down his back.
“I can still feel you inside me.” I force it into his ear like the threat that it is.
“You— I— Ugh.” He pushes me away, his hands shaking. Then he's out of the door, and I can hear his footsteps pounding down the stairs, and then nothing but my own heart banging against my chest.
So.
That's it, then, for now at least.
I look around the room, noticing a chair that we must have knocked over at some point, desks pushed askew. The air feels charged as it sometimes does after a duel, as though it would only take one spark to ignite the whole place.
The potion is still spattered amongst a sprinkling of broken glass. My come is smeared across the desk, while mud from Potter's shoes streaks the floor.
I rub angrily at the grazes of rope burn on my wrists. Damn him. Damn him to hell. What is it about him that makes me want him more each time?
I grind my shoe into the mess on the floor, feeling the sickening crunch of glass against the sole.
I leave everything exactly as it is, like a testament, like an accusation, and walk out.
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Date: 2014-09-10 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 05:45 pm (UTC)LOL, when I wrote the first part, people kept asking me to write another... I thought this would be the end of it!!
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Date: 2014-09-10 06:01 pm (UTC)That gave me literal chills.
This was breathtaking. You always write Draco's voice so well, but hotdamn THIS. He was so perfect. I love an unredeemed, unrepentant, littleshit Draco, and this was like the paragon of that.
I want to curl up in this fic and never crawl out.
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Date: 2014-09-10 06:57 pm (UTC)Raitala gave me that line of dialogue! She is masterful at dirty talk.
I'm so happy that this Draco voice worked for you. Really chuffed.
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Date: 2014-09-10 06:18 pm (UTC)Scorching hot hate-sex (my very favourite kind to read) and the tension and passion between them is palpable. Loved every minute of this fic. Really nice work.
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Date: 2014-09-10 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 06:26 pm (UTC)Birds.
WHAT?!?!?!
How many hearts can I type here before it gets stupid?
Okay. Here they are. My favorite parts:
Potter's sagged against the wall, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his hand over his groin, moving it in slow circles, and oh, dear Salazar, it's the most provocative thing I've ever seen in my life.
Um, ME TOO, DRACO!!!
Do you know how it felt, to have her touch me, and be thinking about your hands on me instead?
OMG. Just OMFG!!!
Even his insults slide like honey against my skin, his lips close to my ear. There is nothing that he could do to me that wouldn't feel good. My body is filling with an unbearable sweetness, making me cry out and clutch at him hungrily. I'm going to come. I'm going to come so hard. I feel it building, and I think if I can just come in his hand then I might die from the pleasure of it.
That unbearable sweetness line. Are you kidding me with that? Perfection. <3
“Oh, god. I'm going to come.” It's a whine, high in my bruised throat.
“No,” he says, even as he forces a knee between my legs. “No, you're not.”
“I am I am, oh fuck, I am.” I'm babbling, my voice sounds like something unravelling. “Oh, sweet holy Merlin, I'm going to come all over your fucking jeans.”
THE JEANS!!! And he SAYS IT!! HE SAYS IT. How is that so hot???
“I should feel bad... but I don't.”
His cock is dragging against the crease of my arse. I remember how thick it is. I remember everything. I drop my head and moan. My stomach is tight with fear, even as my bloody traitorous arse pushes out towards him, greedy for his touch.
“I feel fucking great,” Potter whispers against my back, bending me how he wants me, yanking my clothes out of the way. “And you deserve every inch of this, Malfoy, you bastard.”
YESYESYESYESYES!!!!
“Malfoy, you gorgeous, filthy fuck. You twisted, rotten bastard, you're so tight... God, I knew it would be like this. I'm coming. Oh, god...”
Okay, I have this kink for characters actually saying, in present tense rather than future, "I'm coming", and in this situation, for Harry to say that...
Just holy fucking hell.
The room is quiet except for our breath, out of control at first, but slowing to something calmer. Potter's hands stroke along my sides, like the promise of tenderness, and then he's pulling out of me with sickening speed and stuffing his still-hard cock back into his jeans.
LIKE THE PROMISE OF TENDERNESS!!!! Oh, you know how I like them!!!
“Did I hurt you?” He looks sicker and more angry than ever.
“What do you think?” I sneer. I hate him knowing. It makes me feel weak.
He frowns, and spits the words out. “Well, what did you expect with a pocket full of fuck-potion thrown in my face? Flowers?” But his face is sombre, and his mouth droops at the corners.
<333333333333333333333333
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Date: 2014-09-10 06:28 pm (UTC)His voice is low and resentful. “There's just something about you.”
OMGYES! This is everything with them!!!!
“If you want this...” His face screws up in disgust. “If you want it, for god's sake, Malfoy, ask me.”
OMGOMGOMGOMG!
He opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head and walks towards the door. He mutters, more to himself than me. “It probably wouldn't be any good without the potion, anyway.”
“Like fuck it wouldn't.” The words burst out – I didn't even know I was going to say it, but for god's sake, I think Potter's exceeded his quota of self-delusion for this week.
I'm CHEERING NOW!! CHEERING!!!
But now, I suspect we have added some new moves to our repertoire for when we feel pushed to the limits. The sweet satisfying pain of teeth in flesh, the slap of skin on skin, the aching, punishing stretch of a cock.
Holy fucking god YES!!!!
“I can still feel you inside me.” I force it into his ear like the threat that it is.
Draco Malfoy, I fucking LOVE YOU!!!!
I love them both!!!!
And I love you, Birds!!!
I want to cry with how happy I am right now.
I feel like I've been given a million dollars.
Better than that.
Thank you so much.
I can't.
<3
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Date: 2014-09-10 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 09:01 pm (UTC)You write bastard Draco like no one, did you know?
You write him so damn perfectly I can't even begin to tell you how much I love it.
And Harry, too, god, I can image his eyebrow, the livid look on his face when he realised Draco did this.
And when the antidote didn't work. GASP!!! I couldn't believe it, but of course I could, because, Christ, so perfect, and they went at it like, well, like they were possessed, which they were.
So fucking lustful.
I love that Draco can't help himself when he's with Harry. God, so perfect.
And this fucking ending might kill me. KILL ME WITH ITS PERFECTION, because of course you'd leave me wanting more and more, damnit, Birds!!!!!
Brilliant. Oh god, it is ever!
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Date: 2014-09-11 08:16 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it, dear! Thank you for this fabulous comment. I don't want to just leave them like this, either, I have been thinking about it on and off this week, what would happen next...
I have other things to write, though, and you know how slow I am. How about you come and look after my children and I will write ALL THE HATE SEX.
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Date: 2014-09-11 12:36 am (UTC)Holy fucking hell, Birds!
Now that right there is Harry/Draco the way I like Harry/Draco. Raw, angry, masculine, cursing, posturing, animalistic... GUH.
The original was awesome, but this. I'm sorry, I have no words for you, so I'm just gonna go bask in this forever.
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Date: 2014-09-11 08:18 am (UTC)Thank you for this lovely comment. You made me beam.
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Date: 2014-09-11 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-11 08:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-11 02:33 am (UTC)I loved being in Draco's head as he wrestles with his attraction and the power play between them. Seeing him imagine himself dominating Potter and then offer to suck Potter and agreeing to be fucked showed just how much contrast there is between Draco's perceptions and reality.
I really hope you write more. We're just starting to get glimpses into Harry's mind.
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Date: 2014-09-11 08:27 am (UTC)Lastly, You really conveyed the magnetism between them and how it's so strong that we can't really say how much the potion is to blame.
YES! I'm so happy this came across. I ended up being very unsure in my mind at what point the potion started to affect Draco, or whether the antidote might even possibly have worked, but he was still unable to resist the Harryness of Harry. I don't know, it all got muddled. Possibly if I had been clearer myself, that could have been some clever plot point in the fic, but I quite like it confused like this. It also leaves room for more possible exploration along the same theme, in fact, while typing this comment, I just had a great idea, so, thank you so much!
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Date: 2014-09-11 06:38 am (UTC)I have no words strong enough to describe what I've felt while reading this story. I drank the words you offered us, and when it was over, all I wanted to say was 'more!!!!!!!" oh my god, I want more so badly!!!
This is exactly what I want in a Draco/Harry story. Everything. God, I've just loved your Draco so much in this, his voice was so fucking perfect! How desperate, how needy, how pathetic he is too, and at the same time, he has accepted things before Harry has. He's so fucking brilliant that I wanted to hug him so, so much, and God I understand how Harry feels, because this is so complicated between them, and you've captured that so beautifully.
That's it. In 5k, you've managed to capture the essence of their relationship. It's complex, it's messy, it's angry, it's hateful but at the same time it's sweet and a bit desperate. They can NOT not end up together, no fucking way.
You've killed me with Draco scheming like crazy for six weeks (!!!) to get Harry.
You've killed me with the angry, fucking hot desk sex (and god I love desk sex!), you've killed me with this angry Harry who doesn't give up, never does, and tries to make the best of a situation he doesn't want in the first place (or does he?) He was so perfect too! ♥
And then you've killed me with this absolutely priceless conversation afterwards, that was almost a declaration of love, no, it was more than that, it WAS a declaration of love. How could it be otherwise with them? How deep, intense, sweet, and once again desperate that beautiful, wonderful conversation was? God, I think I could cry at how beautiful it all was and how much once again I want to hold Draco so hard because he's got it bad and at the same time, he thinks there is no way Harry could want him back and god I love that so, so much.
Fuck, I'm so sorry for this one big mess of a comment, but you did that to me! You've left me with trembling hands and a fucking need to read more from this, to give them - and particularly Draco - the happy ending they deserve.
Sorry, I could go on for hours. I'll just go and read it again.
Brilliant. So absolutely fucking brilliant.
Thank you.
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Date: 2014-09-11 08:37 am (UTC)It's awfully flattering to hear that what I wrote affected you so much. The dynamic between H and D is full of such endless possibilities, isn't it? I love exploring different aspects of it, especially dubious and dark ones, and it's so great to know that they resonate for other people when I try.
Thank you very much indeed.
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Date: 2014-09-11 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-12 12:15 pm (UTC)Thanks for this great comment <3
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Date: 2014-09-11 04:30 pm (UTC)This was amazing and sexy and felt so H/D I just about died inside. Loved it! ♥
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Date: 2014-09-12 12:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-11 06:34 pm (UTC)You just.. *flail*
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Date: 2014-09-12 12:17 pm (UTC)That's exactly what Draco said ;-)
Maybe you and me should have a steamy dub-con affair together! Fabulous!
Thank you for this comment. I'm really happy you liked it. You always make me blush.
Wow, hot and heavy
Date: 2014-09-12 01:23 am (UTC)Re: Wow, hot and heavy
Date: 2014-09-12 12:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-14 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-15 12:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-21 11:22 pm (UTC)I blew threw this and the prequel because I couldn't get enough. THERE'S SO MUCH TO LOVE. First, dubious hate sex caused by uncontrollable external factors that slowly just reveal the attraction was there all along!? YES PLEASE. YES FOREVER. MY FAVORITE.
I LOVE that you turned it back on Draco, that things didn't go as he had planned at all. I really wasn't expecting the antidote to not work! Plot devices like that, where a character doesn't get what he wants and it reveals so much more about that character, god I'm such a fan of that ;___;
And GOD you write passion SO SO WELL. That urgency and desire is soooo goddamn tangible in your fics, it's like I can practically feel the raw yearning Draco feels myself. The passion you write is just so.. so raw and gritty and untamed, UGH IT'S SO GOOD.
Not to mention how beautifully you get into his head! The 1st person POV is really interesting, I haven't encountered that a lot in the fics I read but it just allows for such delicious insight into everything Draco's thinking.
ALSO ALSO the language you use is really beautiful! You use a lot of metaphors that are just so visual that it really enhances the atmosphere of the fic! Things like "Even his insults slide like honey against my skin, his lips close to my ear" are just delicious *_______*;;
JEEZ BIRDS REALLY WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING IN THIS FANDOM, NOT READING YOUR FICS
/DIES FROM SHAME
I HAVE SO MUCH CATCHING UP TO DO
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Date: 2014-09-21 11:25 pm (UTC)DAMMIT BIRDS TOO FUCKING GOOD ;____;
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Date: 2014-11-03 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-03 06:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-03 08:06 pm (UTC)I love to play with ambivalence that all wrapped up with passion and obsession and denial.
I love watching the trainwreck that these two are in this verse
I'm so glad, because I love writing it, and I strongly suspect it's not quite done yet...
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Date: 2015-08-21 02:48 pm (UTC)Let's see how Harry Potter likes me when his every nerve ending is screaming for release, when every impulse pulls him closer to me like iron to a lodestone.
First of all, that simile is amazing. Second, god, I hear this sad, rejected, first year Draco, holding out his hand to be shaken. The hurt from that! He's always wanted Harry to like him. So brilliant that you used that here like this!
Sometimes I've even thought I might fuck him – I bet his arse is as tight as a miser's purse, all clenched and righteous...
God, that description is so perfect! :-D
My cock presses painfully against the buttons of my fly; another second and I'd be blissfully rutting against Potter, but then his hand is at my throat, holding me away with surprising force.
“Touch me and I will kill you.” His words rasp out between ragged breaths.
And I loooove how the tables turn! Everything after this is quotable in the extreme, so I just stopped trying and sat back and enjoyed!
This story is so brilliant and hot and angry and I feel for and adore Harry so much, and I'm so impressed what you captured of him from Draco's unreliable narration! So beautifully done! And that KISS! Good god, that kiss!
Thank you for this again! And thank you for writing all the beautiful things you write and give to this fandom. <3
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Date: 2015-08-21 07:15 pm (UTC)