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Harry was dripping with sweat, his heart pounding in a steady thrum as his feet hit the pavement in a familiar cadence.
His breathing was measured, practiced at this point as he was with distance running. He rarely felt winded anymore, even after an hour of exertion nearing his top speed.
If anything, he was still feeling too pent up with energy, even as he approached the end of his run back home from the Ministry. His muscles all felt tight, an itch pushing him to do more, to push harder.
Turning up his long front drive, Harry’s gait slowed into a light, loose limbed jog, before he stopped entirely in front of the door to his house. Light speckled through the trees surrounding the small cottage.
The weather was fantastic for running; cool enough to allow him to feel the sweat chilling against his overheated skin, the sun bright for the first time in ages after a weak start to Spring.
Harry took the few short steps up towards the bright red door, using one hand to haul up the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face and in his beard, before finally succumbing to the desire to just pull the garment completely off.
The cool air felt fantastic against his bare skin, and it was only a thin amount of restraint that stopped him from stripping completely and running starkers into the woods behind his house.
He’d done it before, probably too often, but he was mostly learning to control his instincts. Mostly.
He waved his free hand at the door, the wards and lock opening at the brush of his magic.
Immediately making a beeline for the shower, Harry stripped as he went, unable to resist the need to be free of the constraints of his clothes.
He always felt worked up and in need of some sort of release of tension after a full day of meetings. He’d been incredibly peeved that morning to learn his full Friday had been booked solid, not allowing him to go out into the field on a case, or even to make use of the training room for a spare hour over lunch.
Instead, he’d been forced to sit in his constricting Auror robes in various squashed, windowless meeting rooms full of Ministry employees.
Nothing riled him up more than being in an enclosed space with a bunch of people arguing about budget cuts and procedure overhauls. Especially when Undersecretary Priscilla Babcock kept wearing that ghastly perfume that set his nose twitching. Or when fellow Auror Anthony Goldstein repeatedly proved that he had no self-control, smelling constantly aroused while staring fixatedly at Harry every time they were in the same room, making the hairs rise on the back of his neck and his teeth ache as he tried to rein in the impulse to snarl at the man.
Even worse, he’d been forced to meet with Junior Prosecutor Malfoy on their efforts to proceed with a case against a criminal who Harry had caught in connection with a larger smuggling ring.
As he was a rising star in the criminal law space, Malfoy was warranted his own office, but being as he was still junior, it was basically a closet. And so, Harry had spent an excruciating hour hovering over the blond as he sat at his desk going over scroll after scroll, drilling Harry on his evidence logs and harping on him to “get his facts straight and learn to string a sentence together before the court” so that he wouldn’t bungle the whole case when he was called on to testify.
Malfoy, for some ungodly reason, had not only somehow managed to come out from the end of the War as a completely successful lawyer who had utterly rebranded his image into a champion for legislative reworks that would help reform the Wizarding legal code to meet the needs of the modern era, but he had managed to get unbearably, blisteringly hot.
It had been one thing when Harry had only had to see the git infrequently in the halls of the Ministry or at various functions and society events, but then he’d started getting friendly with Hermione, a fellow champion of legislative changes in the Department of Magical Creatures, and Luna, who brought him as her plus one to basically every friendly event she attended with their group, giving Draco the chance to prove to them all that he was no longer a complete bastard (and was perhaps even the slightest bit likeable, in a prickly, sarcastic kind of way).
And then Malfoy had been promoted into the Prosecution team, meaning he liaised with the Aurors for almost all of their cases, and was asked specifically by Robards to coach Harry on his apparently shite skills at testifying at court, or filling out legal paperwork.
All of this, coupled with how very well he had grown into those pointy features, how he had maintained a willowy, graceful figure, and how he’d grown his gorgeous platinum blond hair to the perfect length to grab in an effective handful or to fall into his eyes when it got disheveled - all of that wasn’t enough.
No, the bastard just had to suddenly adopt muggle fashion as well.
Though it made Harry just as wild to see the blond wrapped from head to toe in well-tailored but draping robes with swaths of fabric covering him, Harry still hadn’t gotten over Malfoy’s new look . It tended to include incredibly well fitting, tailored suits, trousers which always somehow managed to cup his gorgeous bum in an unseemly way, and waistcoats that drew your eye to just how tight his waist was.
And the heels.
Somewhere along the line, Draco had misunderstood that heels were a women’s muggle shoe, but when Harry had tried to point it out to him in a friendly way at one of their pub nights (after a few pints, for courage), he had received only an arched brow and a pedantic explanation of the history of how heels were popularized for men in the 17th century French Muggle Court for royalty, and that the tradition had continued into modern fashion with such illustrious fashion houses as Prada and Louboutin, and that such footwear, was, in fact, utterly suited to his fashion sense.
Worse still , was that after Harry’s rather unfortunate run in with Fenrir Greyback just a year ago, when he had been Turned while finally managing to kill the elusive monster, all of his senses had gone into overdrive with his new, werewolf physiology. Suddenly it wasn’t just that Malfoy looked good enough to eat, now he smelled like Harry needed to bend him over his small, cramped desk and eat his arse out until he came.
And so, every single time he was forced to work with the git, he felt like he was going to go mental.
Now he was all pent up from a day spent idle and trying to rein himself in, and he needed an outlet.
He wanked perfunctorily in the shower to thoughts of what he would like to do to Malfoy if he finally let his instincts take over, taking almost no pleasure from an action that had become so routine as to be tedious. On top of all of his other urges that his new instincts had driven wild, the urge to fuck had increased so dramatically that he typically had to bring himself off at least 3-4 times a day.
Barely bothering to dry off as he finished rinsing the soap and cum off of his body, he stalked, naked, to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a jug of milk. He opened it and took a long pull directly from the bottle, finishing nearly half of the liquid in one long draught.
Thankfully, he had some leftover cornish pasties that Molly had sent him home with after Bill’s birthday on Wednesday, so he switched out the milk for the container of those, bringing it over to the kitchen table. He hunched over and began to eat, enjoying the homemade treats, but mostly just trying to fill his growling stomach after the long run home from the Ministry to his secluded little cottage in the countryside.
He had meant to meet with his friends for their weekly drinking night at the Dancing Dragon, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle another sit down in close quarters with so many people in an environment like a pub. In fact, he was strongly considering heading straight back out for another run, followed up by a long weightlifting session at the muggle gym in the next town over that he had a membership with, and just bringing home takeaway for dinner.
Heading to his bedroom to try and scavenge for some clean clothes, Harry’s eyes caught on a familiar flashing light by his bedside: his muggle mobile phone.
As he watched, a new text notification appeared, and then another; a rapid succession of blinking lights flashing across the small display screen.
He was tempted to ignore it, but just as his urge to run was making his muscles flex in anticipation, so too was the promise that came with those texts making his cock harden in anticipation of another outlet for his pent up energy.
He was a simple man, so he wasn’t surprised when his hindbrain already had him moving to snatch up the small flip phone.
‘hey harry’
‘u’ll never guess what I found’
‘Pretty, blond, pillow princess. Absolute size queen. So posh it hurts’
‘I got him to come to the club tonite - u gotta be there’
‘Might finally be the Cinderella to ur huge cock’
‘U in?’
Harry felt his cock twitch as he scanned the series of texts. Fuck , Beckett knew him too well.
Nothing got him going more than a decadent, demanding piece of toff who needed to be reduced to a pliant mess of overstimulation. The more posh, the better, in his opinion. And he’d always loved a pillow princess; he got off on not letting his partners lift a single finger, preferring to hold them down or tie them up or strap them to a breeding bench. All the better if they preferred to just lie there and take everything he would give them.
And Beckett knew he had a thing for blonds, ever since he had drunkenly described his burning need to fuck Malfoy, and how he thought he’d wanted the posh git even back when he was 16.
All those traits were just icing on the cake, as his friend knew that Harry had preferences, but the real draw for Harry towards a partner, the thing that he willingly ignored every other preference for, was their ability to take cock.
Absolute size queen.
Harry reached down to squeeze his dick, already most of the way hard with just the promise of maybe, just maybe being able to squeeze himself into a sweet, willing, receptive body. Being able to shove the whole, thick length of him inside of a tight, wet heat.
He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but if Beckett was right...
‘I’ll be there,’ he texted back, one hand still squeezing the base of his cock as it twitched and grew.
He’d have to deal with his erection before he left, but it looked like his evening might be shaping up.
***
Harry had made a good friend in Beckett, a muggle who he had once picked up in a gay bar just a year after the war, after his breakup with Ginny and after he’d given up trying to find a partner in the Wizarding community.
They absolutely hadn’t worked out, had been basically doomed from the minute they had left the bar to try and fuck back at Beckett’s place. Sure, there had been a strong chemistry, but the minute they’d gotten down to the logistics, it had become clear that they were both too dominant, too unwilling to cede any power in their exchange, so they’d instead rutted furiously against each other in the front hallway until they both came, their kisses a violent clash, clothing torn in the scuffle.
But Harry would forever be grateful for the chance meeting despite the terrible sex, because Beckett had introduced him to a whole new world, one where Harry could fully escape the pressures of being a recognized celebrity and where every potential sexual partner might end up going to the press with stories about the Saviour’s sex life.
Beckett had become a guide of sorts to what had quickly become one of Harry’s favourite secret societies: the BDSM and fetish lifestyle.
The older man had taken Harry under his wing, acting as a mentor as he had shown Harry the ropes of what it meant to be a Dom; the rules, the techniques, and the inherent privilege in being allowed to take care of a sub. He had also been integral in helping Harry figure out how to deal with his libido, and the challenge of having a cock so massive that he couldn’t actually fuck most of his partners.
It had been a challenge for Harry to deal with this aspect of himself. He had seriously come to resent the idea of intimacy overall by the time he had met Beckett. First, there was his breakup with Ginny, which had unfortunately come about the very same night they had tried to have sex for the first time.
They were both too headstrong, both wanting to take the lead; Ginny, having had more experience from previous dating, and Harry, naturally wanting to take control over any given situation, especially after the War. And then there had been the moment that Ginny had seen his cock - the look of shocked surprise, and then trepidation, and then finally, the absolute failure of Harry to even fit inside of her.
That had ended in a night of tears, Ginny confessing she didn’t think she liked cock at all, and Harry hating himself for almost having hurt her in the attempt.
What followed during Harry’s year of Auror training was a series of relationship disasters, one after another, until Harry had nearly gone mad from it.
If his dates weren’t an immediate failure due to how disgustingly hero-worshipping the person was, things inevitably didn’t work out because of Harry’s cock being too big.
All of them, man or woman, invariably, even with advance warning, looked at him like he was a freak after they saw him fully erect-- even the ones who said they preferred big cocks.
Most of them still tried, but Harry had slowly stopped even attempting to fuck anyone after he had had to suffer through watching them wince and gasp in pain, even after extensive prep and liberal use of lubricating spells.
And then, of course, came the Prophet headlines.
Boy Who Lived - Intimacy Issues? (see page 2 for tell-all from a previous lover)
Troubles with Handling the Saviour’s Wand (see page 4 for eye witness accounts)
Or, when Witch Weekly had reported with much less euphemism:
HARRY POTTER’S COCK - Biggest in Britain?
SAVIOUR’S WAND - 11 inches, but not just the Holly one!
Done with it all, Harry had eventually elected to try the more anonymous route in Muggle London. It was there, over the last 5 years, and with the help of Beckett, that he had finally found an outlet; a place where he could let loose, and feel comfortable in his own skin.
Even if he couldn’t fit his prick in anyone, he had learned to get his rocks off by doing everything just shy of fucking his subs.
***
“Harry, lad, glad you could make it!”
Harry grinned and approached Beckett, happy as always to see his Muggle friend.
There were a few scattered seating areas spread throughout The Griffin, interspersed between all of the fixtures for scenes, including a St. Andrew’s Cross, a few stages, various pieces of specialized sex furniture, cages, and other paraphernalia. It was still early, but as it was a Friday night, the club had begun to fill up, and various couples or groups were already in the full swing of things.
Beckett had picked one of his favourite seats in the place - a beaten up old leather chesterfield that suited the Scotsman well.
“Beckett,” Harry greeted with a nod, sitting in a similar chair beside him, feeling immediately comfortable in the dim light of the club, which had become a favourite haunt of his over the past 5 years.
“Look at you. Dressed up all nice for once.” Beckett teased, his warm brown eyes crinkling up at the corners as he assessed the younger man. “I tell you I have a little surprise, and finally that makes you put in some effort?”
Harry had to admit that he had been more motivated than usual. Typically, he just put on a vest and some of his comfier jeans or even joggers, as they allowed the most mobility for him to work, but he had felt inspired to go a bit beyond his normal effort by the promise of what Beckett had alluded to in his texts.
“I’ll take that as a compliment then, shall I?” Harry asked, and grinned knowingly as Beckett looked him over, gaze heavy as it traced over the tight, white henley that contrasted so nicely with his dark skin tone, and clung to the thick muscles of his shoulders, chest, and back. That, coupled with a pair of well-worn dragon-hide trousers that cupped the sizeable bulge at his crotch, and melded against the muscles of his thighs served as a simple yet effective outfit for when he wanted to impress and draw in potential subs.
“Sure thing, lad.” Beckett agreed, but pursed his lips. “And it looks as though you’ve finally trimmed yer beard. Couldn’t be bothered with the hair, though?”
Harry laughed, “I told you, that’s just how it is.”
“You look like a good bit o’rough.” Beckett noted. “I’ve no doubt that the princess I found will be right taken with ya’. Seems to like them tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Just my luck then.” Harry grinned crookedly, knowing that Beckett and he shared a lot of similar features - the other man was a fair bit paler than Harry, but of a similar build at just over 6 feet with broad shoulders, though Beckett was also a bit thicker in the stomach - definitely a daddy dom if there ever was one, coupled with the greying hair at his temples and in his thick beard. “Why aren’t you keeping him for yourself?”
“Oh you know me.” Beckett shrugged. “I’m too old for demanding little princesses like that; I need someone more my pace, and this one is too young and fiery for my tastes; too much work to train, and I doubt he’d like my style even then. I picked him up at The Yard Bar last weekend, on account of him being all over me and just about gagging for it, but the minute I got ‘im in the sack, I knew he was more up your alley.”
“What makes you think he’d be better for me?” Harry asked, curiosity peaked.
“Well, despite talking himself up to be all that when he was practically sitting in my lap at the bar, the minute I got ‘im back to my place, would you believe he expected me to do every bit of the work? Wouldn’t even undress himself, had me waiting on him, bend and knee, refused to so much as even lick my cock, let alone suck it, and once I’d gotten him off - twice while fucking him, mind you! - he demanded that I fuck him again.’
‘Now, you know I haven’t got that type of stamina in me anymore, but I don’t like to leave any of my partners unsatisfied, so I got to fingering him. He just kept begging for more, and I kept adding fingers til I damn near had most of my fist inside his arse, and that finally sent him over. But even then he wanted more! I gave him a slap almost out of instinct for being such a whiny little slag, and he loved it. I took it easy on him, but he took 10 spanks and nearly came from that as well. He’s a natural submissive, I could tell.”
“Sounds like a complete brat.” Harry observed, his cock already having thickened at the description. “And you said he’s coming here tonight? Does he know about me? About kink in general?”
Beckett nodded, “I mentioned that I know a bloke with a sizable cock who might happen to have the patience to handle him, and he almost laughed in my face, but seemed interested enough. Then I mentioned he might be interested in the BDSM scene, and he hadn’t heard of it at all. I gave him a brief rundown of the concept, and suggested I might show him around The Griffin, if he wanted to know more, maybe introduce ‘im to you. He did start drilling into me about the legality of the whole thing, but seemed eager enough. Said he’d think on it, and I gave him my mobile number to reach out if he wanted to know more.’
‘Then this afternoon he texted me.” Beckett stopped to laugh, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “‘I will be available to meet with you and your friend at The Griffin tonight at 9:00pm. I rather hope I’m not disappointed.’”
“Sounds too good to be true, if I’m honest.” Harry quipped, giving Beckett a disbelieving stare. “I’m never that lucky.”
“Stop that now, lad!” Beckett chided. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
Groaning, Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair and back down along his beard, letting his head drop back against the chair. “You’ve jinxed it now, Beckett.”
“Ah look, he’s texted me just now. The very minute it turned 9pm. Quite the stickler.” Beckett noticed, moving to stand. “I’ll go collect him then. Try not to get too worked up, Harry.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry watched Beckett walk towards the entrance to the club, losing sight of him as he rounded a corner.
He drummed his fingers against the battered leather on the arm of his chair, taking a moment to wonder at how unlikely this would be to work out. Over the past 5 years, he had managed to squeeze his cock into a few apparent “size queens,” but had never managed to actually fuck them, not the way he really wanted to let loose, not for his own pleasure.
Still frowning and lost in his thoughts, he finally looked back up towards the front of the club where Beckett was just returning.
“Oh, shit!” He cursed, feeling all of his muscles tense up, immediately on edge. His green eyes widened, fixed and staring like he was watching a trainwreck, unable to look away.
Harry was simultaneously focused on staring at the oncoming figure, and wondering if he could get away with apparating where he sat, and obliviating the whole club later, when it was safe to come back.
In the end, he was too caught up in staring at Malfoy to make a decision. The absolute tosser apparently had another, previously unseen side to his muggle wardrobe.
“Fuck me.” Harry breathed, groaning low as his cock perked up immediately. He was already beginning to catch Malfoy’s scent, though the man was now stalled in his progress, clearly interested in getting an explanation from Beckett about the St. Andrew’s Cross, which was currently in use.
Harry shook his head, trying to clear it, hands gripping the armrest of his chair so hard that the wood creaked. He took in a few deep, steadying breaths, and tried to get himself under control. He was a dom here, he was in control; absolute, complete, control.
Malfoy was wearing a pair of skintight leather leggings that glinted in the low light of the club, the sheen of them making Harry suspect that they were dragon-hide as well, though in a much, much more tight fit than his own. Had he magicked himself into them? Was he wearing any pants?
Merlin’s balls, he was wearing a sheer white collared shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat, exposing all of that long, creamy neck that Harry almost never got to see between his robes and buttoned up work clothes. The outfit was all the more evocative for closely mirroring his preferred everyday clothing, but in the most inappropriate way possible.
As Malfoy and Beckett finally turned to continue back towards him, Harry could just make out the soft pink of his nipples through his shirt, and the tantalizing dark flash of the Dark Mark on his forearm.
Atop that, he was wearing a bloody corset. A silky green underbust style corset that came up just to the bottom of his pecks, framing the soft swell of muscle in a way that made Harry close his eyes and pray to any divinity that might be listening.
He was wearing a pair of heels, of course - and Harry knew those by sight, as he knew most of Malfoy’s catalogue at this point. It was the Louboutin pair, with the bright red sole underneath. The ones that made him exactly Harry’s height.
“I might have said I’m surprised by this turn of events, but then I would be lying.” Came the posh drawl that Harry was so familiar with after having known the other man for 13 years. He let his eyes open, green meeting silvery grey as Malfoy smirked at him.
“I can’t say I’m surprised, either.” Harry agreed, his skin feeling hot and tight as those grey eyes slid away from him to trail over his seated form, lingering longest at the bulge of Harry’s more-than-half-hard cock in his trousers.
“Did the rumours finally get something right, then?” Malfoy questioned airily, his eyes lingering just a few seconds longer on the outlined shape of Harry’s cock, before moving to take a seat in the chair directly opposite him.
Harry returned an arch look of his own as he watched Malfoy recline comfortably, looking like a prince holding court as he crossed his long, elegant legs, a flash of red confirming Harry’s suspicions about his footwear.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” He shot back, spreading his legs wider, drawing Malfoy’s eyes back down. “You’ll have to be more clear; there are a lot of rumours.”
Malfoy gave him a desultory look, “I’m afraid your friend Beckett here all but confirmed it for me. Unless, of course, there is some other big-cocked dom you were looking to set me up with, hmm?”
Malfoy turned to look expectantly at Beckett, who hadn’t quite managed to sit back down yet, and was staring between Harry and Malfoy like he was watching a tennis match.
“Ah... no, this was the fellow I was mentioning.” Beckett confirmed. “Though, I take it you might already know Harry here?”
With a sly grin, Malfoy looked back at Harry, eyes lighting with a mischievous spark. “Oh, Harry and I go way back, don’t we, Harry?”
Harry felt his hackles rise at how Malfoy managed to breathe out his given name, the effect of that drawl pronouncing it feeling so much more illicit than when Malfoy called him ‘Potter.’ It made his blood burn under his skin; made his teeth itch.
He was so fucked.
“Yes, Draco and I have known each other for quite a while.” Harry conceded begrudgingly, but realizing how stupid it would be to deny it. “Though I never expected to run into him somewhere like this. I always thought you were too pure to go for anything so crass.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed at the jibe, but was quick to counter, “And I’m not the slightest bit surprised that an esteemed law enforcement officer such as yourself would get off on beating people.”
Harry nearly growled, but managed to pull back the sound. Still, he leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowing back at Malfoy, the green in them hot with ire. “You’re out of line, Malfoy.”
Flipping his fringe back with a haughty toss of his head, Malfoy crossed his arms before him, bringing Harry’s gaze back down to the nearly invisible peaks of his nipples behind his sheer shirt. “And what are you going to do about that, Potter? Take me over your knee and spank me?”
The familiar sneer on Malfoy’s face almost transported him back to his hotheaded teenaged rage, but he managed to corral himself.
“You’d have to ask me nicely for that, Malfoy.” Harry replied, leaning back in his seat, ready to take back the upperhand.
The look on Malfoy’s face was entirely satisfying, his grey eyes gone wide, his high cheekbones dusted with the sweetest blush he’d ever seen.
God, he wanted to make Malfoy blush all over.
“That is what you’re after, isn’t it?” Harry continued, pressing his advantage. “Why you decided to come out tonight? You’re looking for a bit of rough, aren’t you, Malfoy? To be taken in hand. You’re always so perfectly buttoned up, so used to having power at your fingertips. So used to having it all done your way. You want someone to take over for a while. Someone to give you exactly what you need, to give you what you don’t even know you need.”
With a smirk, Harry watched as Draco’s pupil’s dilated, and the heady scent of his arousal, which had just been a faint but prevalent note before, became vibrant, calling urgently to Harry’s senses.
“Cocky as always, aren’t you, Potter?” Malfoy breathed, trying to control his rapid breathing, his pulse thrumming, visibly fast in the hollow of his pale throat. His blush was growing, but he looked determined, decided. “I suppose you’ll do, then.”
Harry arched an eyebrow at him, remaining in his casual seated position as Malfoy uncrossed his long legs, looking like he was about to stand.
“Awfully presumptuous of you.” Harry drawled, affecting a tone similar to one Malfoy himself tended to use. “I’m not just some renter to book by the hour, Malfoy.”
Malfoy did stand then, clicking forward on his heels to tower over Harry, his legs looking to go on for miles, his cock hard and obvious in his tight leggings, directly in front of Harry’s face, causing his mouth to water.
“As if you’d turn down the chance to fuck me, Potter.” He scoffed. “You’ve barely been able to keep your eyes off my arse for years.”
“Of course I’d fuck you.” Harry admitted with a laugh. “I’d be hard pressed to find a single man or woman in all of England who wouldn’t. No, it’s not that I’ll fuck you, it’s how I’ll fuck you.”
Draco rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at Harry’s delaying.
“You’re talking about needing to hash out our limits, kinks, all that?”
“Yes, ‘all that,’ Malfoy. It’s pretty damn important. As a dom, I have a responsibility to anyone who subs for me, and I can only offer that if we’ve firmly hashed out the details, and come to an agreement. Especially if I’m going to do what I’m planning to do to you.”
Malfoy gave him a weighing look, his grey eyes considering.
“Fine. Will a verbal compact suffice, or will we be needing a signed legal document and a notary?”
Harry rolled his eyes at the snark, moving to stand himself, getting right up in Malfoy’s space. “We can discuss it, but for now I think a verbal agreement is fine, assuming we’re keeping things relatively tame. Let’s head to one of the private side rooms so that we can -.”
“Oh please, feel free to keep discussing here.” Beckett suddenly interrupted, and Harry’s eyes shot to him from where they had been boring into Malfoy’s. “It was just getting to the good part!”
Harry gave him a puzzled look, and the older man clarified; “This is better than foreplay.”
Malfoy looked amused by the observation, and moved to sit back down in his previously abandoned seat.
“Very well, I won’t deny our audience, and I can call on him if I have any questions.” The blond demurred, once again adopting a princely pose as he crossed his legs and settled into his chair.
Huffing, partially annoyed, partially amused, Harry sat back in his own chair, unrepentantly palming his cock to readjust it to sit more comfortably in his trousers.
“I take it you’ve done your research?” Harry wouldn’t do Malfoy the disservice of not assuming that he hadn’t immediately used all of his not-inconsiderable research skills to do a deep dive into what BDSM was after his brief introduction to it via Beckett the previous week. Malfoy had proved himself to be almost as thorough as Hermione in that front as a lawyer.
“Of course, Potter.”
“You’re aware of the stop light system?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “Red to stop the current activity, yellow for pause and check in before proceeding, green for all clear.”
“And safewords? Do you have one in mind?”
“Safeword for a complete stop to the scene, no questions asked.” Draco paused for a moment, considering. “And I think... Riddle, for my safeword.”
Harry grimaced, but nodded. It would be very effective for him.
“And hard limits?”
At this Draco paused a bit longer, clearly going through a mental catalogue. “There were many things I came across in my research that were... not immediately appealing, but I think the more common limits like blood, scat, urination, and the like, I would not be even slightly interested in.”
Harry nodded, but allowed Malfoy to continue.
“I... think I would prefer not to be called harsh names; anything degrading or derogatory. And I’m not really keen on experiencing pain. Spanking is something I’m very open to, and I’ve enjoyed my limited experience with it so far, but true pain...”
“Perfect, yeah - absolutely.” Harry praised, happy with Malfoy getting into the meat of his limits. “I’m not sure if Beckett mentioned, but I’m not that kind of dom at all. I’m not into pain play in any significant sense, and I’m not a true sadist. I would never try to beat you or inflict any significant pain. The furthest I tend to go is some paddling and flogging, but we don’t have to explore that at all today.”
Malfoy looked relieved, and then smirked. “Of course Saint Potter could never bring himself to willingly hurt a poor, defenseless person. It would go against all of your holier than thou morals.”
“That’s a far cry from your earlier allegations.” Harry commented, amused by Malfoy’s supposition of the dichotomy of his character. “And I’m hardly a saint, else I wouldn’t be into this lifestyle at all.”
“Hmm, yes. I never quite pictured you lounging about in a dungeon. It does give one thoughts about how noble you really are.” Malfoy replied.
“Perhaps I was always meant for another path?” Harry teased. “Did you have any more hard limits, or anything else I should avoid?”
“Nothing that immediately stands out, but I assure you, I will be quite vocal if you try anything untoward, Potter.”
“Which leads me to the other important aspect to discuss; what are your preferences? Have you ever tried anything kinky? Does anything spark your interest in particular?”
At this, Malfoy looked much more eager, bright eyed with interest and challenge.
“I’d like a partner that can finally last long enough to satisfy me. And one who can compete with some of the toys that I own in terms of size.”
“Oh?” Harry hummed, feeling a deep possessiveness come over him. “And what does that all entail?”
“Well,” Malfoy drawled, moving to uncross his legs, and then re-cross to the opposite side, giving Harry a glance at the hard outline of his cock and a flash of red from his heels. “I have a very high libido, and a great deal of... shall we say, stamina? I’m not satisfied coming just once. And most men find themselves unable to last once they’ve gotten their prick in my arse.”
“How disappointing for you. I’m sure having such a lovely arse is a curse.” Harry agreed, licking his lips. “And how many times, exactly, would be an ideal amount of orgasms for you?”
Draco let his head fall back, appearing to consider. “Ideally, I’d say at least 4-5.”
“Is 5 your limit?” Harry asked, leaning forward in his chair, eyes sharp as he stared at Malfoy.
“Limit?” Draco questioned.
“Is that the most you’ve ever come? Can you handle more than that?” Harry asked, his cock hard and throbbing between his legs. He could taste Malfoy’s arousal on the air, and Harry was desperate to get his mouth on the other man’s cock, to suck as much come out of him as he could give.
“I-” Malfoy seemed to falter, eyes taking in the raw hunger on Harry’s face. “I might’ve done more, when I was younger, but-”
“But is that your limit? Could you take more than that? Let me take more than that from you?”
Malfoy shivered, and his scent heightened, thick on Harry’s tongue. “I’d certainly welcome you to try.”
Harry offered him a hungry grin, pleased and eager. “And your toys. What’s the biggest you’ve ever taken? What size is your favourite?”
Malfoy huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it into a slightly disheveled state. He was beginning to look more and more desperate.
“The biggest is my favourite, as it happens. It’s 9 inches.” He gave Harry an assessing look from under his fair eyelashes, as though challenging him.
Harry only just stopped himself from reaching down to squeeze his aching cock at that look, at how much Malfoy could take, but that wasn’t the only thing he wanted to know.
“And how wide is it, Malfoy? How much does it stretch you open?”
The other man’s eyes fluttered shut. “I- I’m not sure. It’s thick, maybe 2 inches in diameter?”
“Fuck , okay, that’s perfect.” Harry noted, feeling his cock throb. There might finally be a chance for him after all.
“Is it, Potter?” Malfoy drawled, eyes sharp with interest, trailing down his body to fixate on the thick bulge between Harry’s legs. “I’d heard you were bigger.”
“I am.” Harry confirmed, but still didn’t clarify on what Malfoy was obviously looking to hear. “But I’ll make sure to take my time to prep you, don’t worry.”
“I’m hardly worried , Potter, don’t flatter yourself. I was actually thinking about purchasing a bigger model, so I’m looking forward to a trial run.”
Harry growled softly, simultaneously loving Malfoy’s trademark sass, but also getting his hackles up at the thought of Draco getting another, bigger fake cock up his arse.
“I can do a fair bit more than a toy, so you might still end up finding it disappointing.” Harry chided. “Can’t find a toy that can eat your arse til you cry, can you?”
Those silver eyes widened, and Malfoy looked almost shocked and uneasy. “Really, Potter, how uncouth-”
Harry leered, cutting in. “Has no one ever eaten that pretty arse out, Malfoy?”
“As if I would let someone-!”
“Oh Malfoy,” Harry cooed, mouth watering. “I’d rim you for hours if you let me. Your arse was made to be eaten. I’m definitely going to get my mouth on your sweet little hole tonight.”
Flushing all over, Malfoy fairly squirmed in his seat, his breathing picking up, the corset he was wearing pressing tight under his chest.
“You seriously intend to - that’s obscene.”
“A lot of what I want to do to you could be considered ‘obscene,’ Malfoy. Now, will you let me lick your arse? You can always tell me to stop, if you don’t end up liking it.”
“If you’re so desperate for it, Potter, I suppose I’ll allow you.” Malfoy demurred, still looking flush and innocently chagrined at the thought of it.
“Oh, I’m positively gagging for it, Malfoy. I can’t wait to get my mouth all over you. I’m going to suck your sweet little cock until you burst in my mouth, and then I’m going to eat that gorgeous arse until you’re begging me to fuck you, and then I’ll keep eating you.”
“P-potter, you’re absolutely filthy -” Malfoy moaned, chest still heaving, his legs squeezing tight together, hand pressing down to grind the heel of his palm against his cock.
“Does it turn you on, Malfoy? How filthy I am?” Potter demanded, low and eager. “Does the idea of a filthy, ill-bred mutt like me fucking such a posh, perfect, pureblood like you get you hot?”
The blond made a plaintive noise, his eyes shutting as he pressed down against his cock even harder, “Potter, stop -”
“You gunna come in your pants just from the thought of a dirty bit of rough like me besmirching that fabled Malfoy innocence? I bet you were supposed to keep yourself pure until marriage, and here you are, ready to let me, of all people, into that tight little arse.”
Malfoy groaned, but managed to pull his hand away from between his legs, and glared up at Harry through heavy lids, cheeks flush and chest positively heaving.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Harry teased, grinning savagely. “Any other fantasies I should know about?”
Malfoy gave him a challenging look, shifting again in his chair to try and relieve the pressure on his prick.
“You’re really trying to spin this to be all about me, Potter?” He challenged, tone sultry and accusatory at once. “As though you weren’t just talking about how desperate you were to get on your knees for me? I’d have rather thought that any fantasy scenarios would include you finally putting me in my place. Lord knows you must be eager to get me over your knee, to spank me raw for all of my past transgressions?’
‘Or perhaps you’d rather use that big cock of yours to finally shut me up?” The corners of Malfoy’s lips curled up in a devious grin. “Imagine how many of our encounters in school could have been resolved if I’d had something else to keep my mouth busy?”
Harry groaned at the image that called to mind; Draco kneeling, mouth stuffed with his cock, face flushed a pretty pink with it, in the middle of a corridor at Hogwarts, Harry’s robes falling around them, barely concealing their actions from view.
“As lovely as that sounds,” Harry agreed, “I’m what the BDSM community calls a ‘service top’ or ‘gentle dom.’ What really gets me off is getting my subs off. Did you end up reading anything about overstimulation, during your research?”
Malfoy, still flushed a pretty pink and an inch from losing control, looked to think for a moment, but didn’t seem to recall, so shook his head, loosened tendrils of blond hair falling into his eyes.
“What I want to do to you, Malfoy.” Harry began, tone dark and promising. “Is to find every part of your body that feels good, to touch you in every possible way that makes you want to shake apart, and to make you come, hard, over and over, until you’re so desperate that you don’t know whether to beg me to stop or to beg me for more, and then I’ll keep working you over until you can barely string a thought together in that pretty head of yours.”
Malfoy was staring at him, his soft lips open, breath panting out of him, eyes wide and pupils almost completely dilated.
“Now, before I tell you exactly what I’m going to do to you, and get your consent, is there anything else that you want? Anything you want to try, equipment? Anything else to avoid?”
Swallowing, a soft pink tongue came out to run along Malfoy’s lower lip. He cast his eyes down, thinking.
“I saw... in my research, and over there, when I came into the club...” Malfoy paused, biting his lip, clearly hesitant.
Harry patiently waited him out, eager to hear what Malfoy wanted - what was making him blush so furiously.
“... the breeding bench.” The blond whispered, clearly trying for nonchalance, but failing quite spectacularly as he nearly squirmed in his seat.
“Oh Malfoy.” Harry breathed, feeling precum leak out of his cock at the words. “You want to be bred, sweetheart?”
Malfoy fairly flinched at the words, going thoroughly red, face turned fully away from Harry. “Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. I’m not a woman.”
Harry let out a soft hum of a laugh, “As if that would matter, Malfoy. I can still breed that sweet little hole of yours, if that’s what you want?”
Malfoy’s breathing stopped, and he still refused to look at him.
“Is that what you want, sweetheart? You want me to get you nice and strapped down, plugged up with my thick cock, and stuffed with come until you’re nice and full? Want me to give you my heir?”
He could practically smell how flush with blood and precum Malfoy was, and saw how wide his eyes got, even though Malfoy was looking down at the floor beside his feet. There was a certain sweetness growing in his scent, and it was making Harry feel wild, reckless and desperate, and absolutely removing his filter.
“Potter -” Malfoy breathed, before stopping himself.
“You can say no, Malfoy.” Harry prompted. “I won’t bring it up again, if that’s not something you like; I’m sorry, I-”
“No,” Malfoy interrupted, eyes flicking up to catch his, partially obscured by his hair, which was tangled into his long lashes. “I... I want it.”
“Fuck.” Harry breathed, and felt like he was going to likely end up being the one to come in his pants. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m going to make it so good for you. So fucking good.”
Malfoy moved again in his seat, body tense, eyes looking wild. “So many promises, Potter. Are you planning on making good on them anytime soon?”
Nodding, Harry decided it was best to wrap it up before they were both so overwrought that they came before they could even get started.
“Okay. Here’s what I’m planning on doing for our scene. Let me know if you don’t want to do any of it, and I promise I won’t. Once you’ve consented, we can get started.”
Malfoy nodded, biting his lip again, eyes fixed on his, eager.
“I’m going to get you out of your clothes, and then I’m going to bring out my jute rope. I’m going to tie you up nice and tight so that you can’t move, and then I’m going to get to know all of the most sensitive spots on your body. I’m going to suck your cock until you come, and then I’m going to keep playing with your cock until you come again. Then, I’m going to finger you open, and play with your prostate until you come again. Then I’m going to eat you until you're dripping wet and begging for my cock. We’ll see if you can come just from being eaten out.” At this, Harry smirked at Malfoy, who looked both annoyed and flustered.
“Then,” Harry continued. “I’m going to get you out of the ropes, and strapped down on your knees into the breeding bench, and I’m going to fuck you, raw, until you’re blind with pleasure. And then I’m going to keep fucking you, until you can’t move, or think, or talk. And then I’m going to fill you so full with come that you’ll need a plug to keep it all inside of your fucked out hole.”
Malfoy’s mouth was open into a soft ‘o’ of disbelief, his eyes wide and blown out, the grey in them almost gone.
“Do I have your consent, Malfoy?”
“Yes.”
Draco’s thoughts felt staticky, disbelief clouding him.
He was going to fuck Potter.
Harry Potter; Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Heroic Defeater of the Dark Lord, general Do-Gooder and Golden Boy.
That same man wanted to eat his arse until he cried .
Harry Potter was desperate to get his mouth on the cock of Draco Malfoy - the bane of his career at Hogwarts, Death Eater Draco Malfoy.
The moment he had spotted that mop of messy black hair when Beckett had brought him into the club, part of Draco had gone immediately into defense mode. In exactly no world would Potter ever deign to even look at him in any sort of positive light.
For the past few years of their recent acquaintanceship, through Luna and Hermione, at the Ministry and at various mutual social events, Potter had been consistently careful around him. Always staring with that hard, considering gaze.
Always watching him, undoubtedly suspicious and waiting for even the smallest mistake.
Even before Potter had been Bitten in the line of duty as an Auror, the dark haired man had always looked at Draco like he was a moment away from attacking him - those intense green eyes full of an animal magnetism of sorts.
And since his Change, that look had only magnified. Potter could barely tolerate being in a room with him; always prowling and on edge, his immense magical aura crackling and tingling all over Draco’s skin, making him feel like he was going to go out of his mind in the other man’s presence.
Potter had no idea what he did to him.
How badly Draco had always wanted the other man. Even back when they had been idiot teenagers.
But especially now that he was older. Now that Draco had undergone his own Change.
Draco had fled with his Mother to France after he War, and so, he had had time to acclimate and learn about his Inheritance in relative privacy, and had been lucky enough to have easy access to specialized suppressant potions, that allowed him to live a relatively normal, unremarkable life.
However, there were some aspects of being a Veela that couldn’t be suppressed.
He was still painfully attracted to anyone possessing a high level of magical energy, as Veela’s preferred to mate with the most powerful witches and wizards, not unlike how a succubus or incubus fed off sexual energy.
And, physiologically speaking, he had other adaptations that left him feeling uniquely unsatisfied when fucking the average male partner, as was his preference. His arse was practically designed to wring an orgasm out of his partners, leaving them frequently unable to last longer than a few minutes when fucking him.
As a male Veela, he was still in possession of a prostate, which was easy enough to stimulate, but there was another spot, much deeper inside him, that felt positively exquisite when stimulated.
A spot that made Draco fairly squirm with embarrassment, and a spot that he could only just barely reach with his favourite toy.
Desperation kept driving him back out to seek partners though, despite how much he loved his toys. They could never fully satisfy his needs, and his libido had been repressed somewhat by his supressants, but he was still nearly constantly desperate for a good fuck.
That had led him to several incredibly disappointing and depressing liaisons. More often than not when he picked up a Wizard, they were cruel to him, eager to fuck and degrade a former Death Eater, or invaribly turned mean when they couldn’t stop themselves from coming too quickly when fucking him, calling him a slag or whore, defensive and angry about their lackluster performance.
And so, increasingly desperate, Draco had finally ventured out into Muggle London, trying to find something to tide his lusts over.
Just his luck that he would somehow end up being brought directly back to Potter, who he had been practically gagging after for years - nearly constantly aroused in his presence at just the sight of all of that muscled, dark skin, his shaggy, unkempt beard and hair, and his threatening green gaze.
Coupled with how Potter was literally the most magically potent person he had ever met, Draco could only be amazed that this was only now happening, and that he hadn’t caved and begged Potter to fuck him before now.
Instead, his world had been rocked as he had sat there, listening to Potter describe how eager he was to get his mouth on Draco, how desperate he was to get his cock into Draco’s arse.
He felt like he’d been confunded.
But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
***
Draco felt hot already, and they hadn’t even started.
After they had made a verbal compact, shaking hands in front of Beckett to seal the deal, Harry had carefully wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, hand dragging proprietarily over the silk of his corset, turning him and settling a big hand at the small of his back as they walked towards the breeding bench that Draco had noted during his earlier tour of the club.
Draco felt his vision tunnel, his heartbeat rising and his skin flushing at the sight of it, and only the feeling of Potter’s hand on his lower back helped to ground him, and kept him moving forward.
I can’t believe that I admitted to wanting -
“Hey,” came a soft breath against his ear as Potter turned his head toward him, nose brushing against Draco's temple. “We don’t have to do any of this. We can stop now, or we can go somewhere more private, back to my place -”
“Shut up, Potter.” Draco interrupted, turning to him, head tilted up, bringing his lips dangerously close to the other man’s, catching those green eyes with a determined look. “Shut up, and deliver on your promises. Unless, of course, you’re all talk?”
Lips pulling back from his teeth, Potter nearly snarled at him, his body radiating heat as it pressed up against Draco, making him feel flush and weak at the knees to feel all of that hard muscle and sharp magical energy.
“You’re lucky I like you mouthy, Malfoy.” Potter crooned, leaning in to drag his nose up the column of Draco’s neck, breathing deeply, practically panting into his skin. “It’ll be so satisfying when I fuck the posh right out of you.”
Draco couldn't help but moan, eagerly tilting his head back, exposing his throat to the other man’s whims, letting the werewolf scent him. He could taste Potter’s magic against the roof of his mouth, and found himself close to panting as well, his cock leaking precome already.
“Still an awful lot of talk, Potter.” He breathed, aiming a saucy look at the taller man, hoping to egg him on, desperate for it; desperate for anything that Potter could give him.
“I’ll have to make it up to you.”
Draco gasped as Potter’s mouth came down on his, a hot tongue pressing immediately against his lips for entrance, which Draco granted with a ready, eager moan.
Magic crackled between them as they kissed, their mouths moving violently together, and Draco was overwhelmed with the taste of that sharp petrichor-lightning-ozone flavour that lit Potter up, the wet heat of his tongue, and the flash of metallic blood as their lips caught on each others teeth.
“You already taste so fucking good.” Potter growled into his mouth, before licking back in, all tongue and teeth and dominance. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
Draco couldn’t help the needy groan that left him as Potter pulled his mouth away, but was pleased when the other man began to swiftly divest him of his clothes.
He heard a wrenching noise as the other man pulled at the strings of his corset, but his protest was swallowed up as Potter kissed him again, filling his mouth again with that otherworldly taste of magic and heat, thoroughly distracting him.
Soon enough, Potter was yanking the loosened corset over his head, tossing it carelessly to the ground as his blunt fingers went for the small, pearlescent buttons of Draco’s sheer white button-up.
A few of the delicate buttons were casualties to the process, but Potter rapidly had them undone, hands skimming up the flat planes of his stomach, over the soft swell of his pecks, and pushed the gauzy fabric off his shoulders, baring him.
Malfoy froze at a sudden spike of violent magic that swirled around them, and looked back up at Potter from where he had been trying to work the sleeves loose where they were buttoned again at his cuff, stuck and draping from his forearms.
Potter’s verdant gaze was crackling with a familiar look. That sharp, hungry, fixated stare that had followed him constantly throughout sixth year, and then again more recently.
He felt trapped in that look, and then he remembered.
The scars.
Draco wanted to cover himself up, suddenly, wrap himself in the limited protection of his shirt again, but suddenly Potter’s hands were there, hot and demanding, one cupping the slight dip of his waist, the other fully cupping one of his pecks, his thick thumbs finding the lines of two of his largest scars, tracing them reverently.
Shivering, Draco stared down at those hands, so dark against his own pale skin, and then back up at Potter’s face, who’s expression was rapt, ravenous.
“These are mine.” The dark haired man rumbled, the pressure of his hands growing as his fingers dug into the skin, making the scars whiten further, stark against his already pale skin. “Mine."
Oh.
Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Draco arched into the touch, a keen building in the back of his throat at Potter’s heavy, reverent touches. His scars had always been sensitive, but seemingly at the beck of their master, they came alive, feeling like little arcs of sensation. He gasped as Potter leaned down, sucking at a mark that trailed up over his collarbone, laving his tongue thick and hot over the sensitive line.
The distraction lasted only a moment, before Potter pulled back, eyes lit with even more determination as he looked at the rest of Draco’s clothing. Suddenly, he went to his knees before Draco, who’s cock immediately twitched and leaked, eager at the sight.
The dark haired man yanked his shirt fully from his arms, and it fell to pool at his feet. Next, Potter gently, reverently, helped Draco step out of his heels, before carefully setting them to the side.
Smirking salaciously up at him, Potter then began to pull at his leggings, peeling the dragon-hide down his hips, exposing his sticky, wet prick, and then the rest of his long, lightly muscled legs.
Potter stared at him like he was a feast, eyes mapping over all of his exposed flesh, but most often caught and stuck on his cock, which was almost painfully hard, pressed up against the flat of his belly, needy and dripping.
“Time to get started, then.” Potter reached down beside him, to a large gym bag he had brought over with them. From inside, he pulled a long, meticulously wrapped coil of dark green rope.
Draco looked at it curiously as the other man stood and began unwinding a length, beckoning for Draco to move closer to the bench.
“Hold out your arms, hands clasped together in front of you.”
Part of Draco wanted to balk, almost on principle, to rile Potter up. But the other part of him, eager and desperate for what Potter could do to him, to see what lovely pattern the other man could make against his skin with the rope, jumped forward to do as asked. He had rather liked the look of rope bondage during his research; it had a definite aesthetic appeal.
What followed was a surprisingly methodical and calm process. Potter easily and confidently bound his forearms tight together, always careful and checking to ensure that the rope wasn’t too tight.
Draco already liked the look of the green rope, so dark as to almost be black, and stark against his pale skin.
He immediately liked the feeling, as well. He wasn’t quite helpless yet, but the idea of being completely at Potter’s mercy appealed greatly to him.
He shivered as Potter moved around him, coming to stand behind Draco, and began looping the rope to drape down his chest, manipulating it in loops and knots until it framed his pecks, pressing in on them and around them, and up around his trapezius muscles, down around his back.
It felt tight, encompassing, like it was holding him together, and holding him subject to Potter. It was heady.
Potter trailed around him, in and out of his vision as he looped the rope down across his torso, almost mirroring some of the scars that he had given Draco, until he had a web of criss-crossed lines leading down to frame his cock.
He blushed as Potter began to work the rope between his legs, shoving his thighs apart as he stood, not stopping when an accidental brush against Draco’s cock made him twitch and try to push into Potter’s wandering hands.
The man was in his element, completely in control and focused on his task.
Draco reveled in how those green eyes looked at him, solely focused on him, on how to mark Draco further, on how to mold his limbs into exactly what he wanted.
He went, easy and eager, when Potter moved him towards the bench, laying Draco out on his back against the cold length of leather.
Shivering at the feeling of the chill leather and how the ropes along his back and those looped around the swell of his arse pressed, sharp, against him, Draco eagerly opened his legs when Potter’s hot hands shoved them open.
Draco watched, eyes half lidded and mouth open in a soft moan, as Potter began to tie his thighs to his calves, leaving him forced open in a frogtie, exposed.
“Almost there.” Potter murmured, running a soothing hand over Draco’s skin, over the ropes, suffusing him with warmth, and making his cock twitch.
Draco felt weirdly docile as Potter gently pulled his bound arms over his head, bent and tied tight over his head at the front of the bench, immobilizing him.
He let out a soft sigh as Potter went back down to his legs, looping another length of rope through each binding at his knees, before lashing them down through some hooks on the floor, locking his legs open, immobilizing them as well.
Draco could only stare down at himself, feeling glazed over, almost drunk.
He looked so -
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, sweetheart.”
Draco blinked slowly up at Potter, who’s eyes were darting all over his body, an odd expression on his face; one that Draco had never seen before.
“So pretty for me. Took it so well.” Draco let out a sigh of satisfaction as Potter began to touch him again, running his big hands over Draco’s lightly heaving flanks. “Do you like it, baby?”
Draco smiled languidly at the dark haired man, finding himself nodding. “It’s... nice.”
Potter huffed a laugh, leaning in to kiss him gently, tongue licking soothingly against his own for a moment, before letting Draco suck on it, moaning.
“What’s your colour?” Potter asked, pulling away, trailing a line of saliva between their mouths.
“Green.”
“Good.” Harry praised, kissing him again, working that hot tongue back into his eager mouth. “Gunna make you feel so good, baby.”
Draco moaned as Potter began kissing his way down his neck, interspersing sharp nips and meaty bites with long, wet sucking against his pale skin, marking him up.
By the time he reached Draco’s chest, the blond was already close to coming, so worked up from their earlier conversation, and then the ropes, and even the thought of Potter doing this, his magic crackling through the air around him.
“Look at these sweet little tits.”
Draco felt himself twitch in his bindings, eyes wide as he stared down at that messy mop of black hair, before Potter cupped both of his pecks in his big hands, squeezing them tightly as his mouth descended, sucking his left nipple into that hot, wet mouth.
“P-Potter!” He gasped, unable to move as the other man helped himself to his feast, sucking and biting and laving his tongue over the steadily hardening bud of his nipple. When Harry pulled away, he blew a stream of cold air at the glistening skin, making it tighten further, and Draco hissed.
“Knew these would taste so good.” Potter groaned, descending on the other one to give it the same treatment, mouth sloppy and hungry, like a man starved.
Draco wanted to thrash, feeling his cock twitch and leak at the sensation. No one had ever done this to him before. “Potter, what on earth are you doing?”
That dark head pulled back, green eyes flicking up to look at him, a moue of confusion marring his slick lips. “Doesn’t it feel good, sweetheart? You don’t like it?”
Draco blinked, uncertain.
Potter reared up, pulling him into another searing kiss, before looking at him somberly. “Has no one ever done this for you before, baby? Never had anyone play with these gorgeous tits?”
Draco’s mouth went dry, and he shook his head, flushing. “I’m not a woman , Potter -”
“Oh Draco.” Harry cooed, kissing him sweetly again. “You don’t even know how good I’m going to make this for you. Will you let me make your tits feel good, baby?”
Draco felt his mouth open, mute, but he nodded, eyes still wide as he stared up into Potter’s confident gaze.
“Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.”
And then his mouth was back on Draco's chest again, sucking with that devastating pressure, and suddenly his hands had moved as well, forefinger and thumb squeezing one of his nipples in a sharp pinch, making him keen.
He strained against the ropes holding him, feeling them tighten and squeeze around his pecks as well, only adding to the fire of sensation that lashed through him.
Potter’s mouth was searingly hot, his teeth sharp and merciless, and his tongue a soothing balm on his tortured flesh. The man bit and licked at the skin all around his pecks until Draco was red and littered with teeth marks across his pale skin, his scars feeling like cold-fire and liquid pleasure, his nipples tight buds of sensation, hot in Potter’s mouth, cold and exposed when not, and sharp with pain as those plucking fingers squeezed and abused them.
He was moaning, loud and desperate, eyes torn between clenching shut at the sensations, and staring, wide eyed as Potter feasted on his flesh, mouth and hands gluttonous as they sucked and groped and coveted.
It was finally too much.
Keening high and desperate, Draco arched up into Potter’s mouth, pressing his tits into the man’s face as he came, his cock twitching and slapping wetly against his stomach, come splattering up towards his chest, catching Potter under the chin.
Potter’s grin was positively feral as he pulled up and away from Draco’s chest, come dripping from his thick beard, his lips red and wet from their efforts.
Draco panted, grey eyes full of disbelief, his whole body thrumming with the echoes of his pleasure as his orgasm washed through him.
“God, you’re perfect.” Potter groaned, giving him an exultant kiss. “I knew you’d like it, but Merlin, how lucky am I that you can come just from your tits? That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby.”
Draco shivered at the praise, feeling his cock give another feeble twitch. He groaned as Potter leaned down to bestow a sucking kiss to each of his nipples.
“So good for me.” Potter murmured, and then began lapping up all of the come that had splashed across Draco’s torso, moaning in pleasure at the taste, and sucking yet more marks onto Draco’s pale skin in all of the gaps between the rope that criss-crossed the expanse.
When he finally arrived at Draco’s cock, he found it still half hard, and leered up at Draco with a hungry look in his eye.
“Ready to come again, sweetheart?” He asked, mouth hovering and breath hot between Draco’s legs, drawing in deep breaths through his nose as he scented along the crease of Draco’s thigh. “Ready to let me taste this sweet little cock next?”
Draco felt himself go boneless, his eyes fixed on Potter’s mouth. “Please.”
“God, look at how gorgeous you are.” Harry praised, nosing along the swell of his growing length. “You’re the absolute perfect size, baby. Just big enough to fit in my mouth - so easy to play with. The perfect little cock.”
Under normal circumstances, Draco would have bristled at the remark, but instead he tried to thrust up, a little jolt of his hips the only movement he was capable of making. “Please! ” He hissed, desperate.
Without another word, Potter engulfed him in his mouth, the searing wet heat of it hitting Draco like a wall. He groaned, oversensitive from having just come, but desperate for it anyway.
Potter sucked him completely down, holding him in the wet cavern of his mouth as Draco thickened fully, the tip of his cock just barely touching the back of the other man’s mouth and the opening of his throat.
It really was the perfect fit.
Potter didn’t pull back, didn’t so much as move his head, merely held Draco in his mouth and sucked, moaning eagerly around him as Draco whined and hissed, his head thrashing back and forth, unable to buck up or thrust into that inescapable heat.
Potter’s tongue was not idle either, and it played languidly along the bottom on his shaft, stroking and coaxing, the only counterpoint to the man’s constant suction.
Just when Draco thought he would go mad with it, already on the edge of coming, but painfully desperate for more sensation, Potter pulled back, just slightly, and got his tongue on the tip of Draco’s cock, and began his next assault.
Draco threw his head back with a cry as Potter began torturing his cockhead, tonguing under his foreskin until it was completely exposed, and then pressing it harshly against his slit, tonguing in again and again, as though trying to fuck his cock with the tapered tip of the wet muscle.
Draco groaned and tried to shy away from the feeling, but couldn’t move. He felt his balls tightening despite himself, and his eyes rolled back as Potter changed tactic, drawing his tongue back slightly to flick in a constant motion over his slit.
With only the head of his cock still in Potter’s mouth, Draco was woefully under stimulated, but with the constant battery of that slick muscle against the very tip, Draco was helpless.
He came again, cock throbbing as he squeezed out another burst of come against Potter’s constantly moving tongue, moaning and crying out as the man kept lapping away at him through his orgasm, licking and sucking the come harshly from his slit.
Finally, the man pulled back, his lips as red and wet as ever as he grinned up at Draco, who could barely keep his eyes open, his whole body shuddering with the aftershocks.
“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” Potter slurred, tongue thick in his mouth. “I love your sweet little cock. Gunna make you come again.”
Draco let his head fall back with a thump, eyes shut and breathing harsh.
“What’s your colour, sweetheart? Can you give me more, or are you done?”
Draco panted, feeling overwrought.
He wanted more, he wanted everything Potter could give him.
“Green! More, Potter, more!”
Potter groaned, mouthing at Draco’s spread-open thigh, nose burying itself against his skin. “You’re so fucking good for me, sweetheart. Gunna make you feel so good.”
Sucking marks against the skin of his thigh between the frame made by the rope holding him open, Potter got his hand on Draco’s flaccid cock.
And began wanking him.
Draco gasped, a pained whimper crossing his lips at the wrenching feeling that pooled in his stomach, making it clench.
His prick was still wet and sticky with Potter’s saliva, and the other man used that to his advantage as he jacked him, his full fist closing to cover Draco’s cock, his thumb tucked over his sensitive head, pressing tight against his overworked slit.
Draco felt tears building in his eyes.
“You can take it, baby.” Potter cooed, squeezing and massaging his cock in one big, hot hand. “You can come again for me, can’t you?”
Draco let out a wrecked sound, but felt himself nodding. A tear spilled over, and his vision went blurry.
His cock hardened, slightly, twitching in Potter’s grasp.
“So good for me.” Harry continued, fist jerking along his thickening flesh, moving a bare inch up and down, thumb grinding down against his slit. “Gunna get more come out of this gorgeous little prick.”
Draco was gasping now, chest heaving, his whole body taut and flexing against the rope holding him still.
He lay there for an eternity with Potter murmuring soft praises at him, sucking marks into his skin, holding his aching cock in a tight, punishing grip.
Finally, feeling like he’d been crucioed, Draco broke.
He came, sobbing, and Potter rubbed his thumb back and forth over his oozing slit, then lapped the dripping liquid off of his own hand, green eyes staring, greedy as Draco lay there, exhausted gaze caught.
“Fuck.” Potter whispered, trailing his thumb back along Draco’s now-spent cock, eyes worshipful. “Fuck .”
Draco groaned out a noise of agreement, feeling like he could never manage to move again, his body completely drained, happy to lie there under Potter’s gaze.
His eyes were shut, but they opened in a flash as he felt Potter’s mouth back on him, trailing down and getting dangerously close to -
“You smell so fucking good here, baby.” Hot breath tickled against the skin of his arse, and if he had been able to, Draco would have squeezed his legs shut.
But he was helpless, tied wide open as Potter brought those big hands up to cup his cheeks, spreading them open, exposing his hole to that sharp green gaze.
“Will you still let me eat you out, sweetheart?” Potter questioned, staring up at Draco, nostrils flaring, mouth open with want. “Let me get you wet and open for me?”
Draco shivered, flushing all over at the sight of Potter between his legs, holding him spread open.
It was painfully intimate.
“It’s -” Draco hesitated, swallowing. “It’s dirty.”
Potter grinned up at him, expression lewd as he licked his lips. “Don’t worry, baby.”
Draco gasped, eyes rolling back as a wash of magic rushed through in. The familiar tingle of a cleaning charm ripped through him, uncommonly powerful, the locus of which focused on the sensitive furl of his arsehole. The feeling was so close to an orgasm that it almost physically hurt him, sensitive as he was, and he was left shivering and shuddering as the magic flowed through him.
He was still nearly insensate at the feeling as he felt it - Potter’s hungry mouth pressed right up against his hole.
It was-
Merlin -
“Fuck!” He hissed, his legs and abdomen flexing in waves as Potter’s hot tongue lapped at him, swirling and tracing over the tight furl of his opening. “Ngh -”
He made a long, guttural noise as Potter’s lips fixed tight around his hole, sucking, a lewd, wet noise emitting from the other man as he hungrily dived in.
It was so wet.
Saliva dripped down his crack, pooling along the leather under his lower back as Potter manhandled his arse open, angling Draco so that he could feast on his hole.
His big hands allowed him the ability to prise Draco open, his thumbs hooked down between his cheeks, slipping in to frame his hole, tips digging in and opening him up so that Potter’s tongue could spear into him.
Potter was fucking him. His tongue was easing further and further into him, slippery wet, hot, demanding.
Draco wanted to scream.
He did scream.
Something happened, something inside of him bursting; he wasn’t coming, his cock was wrung out, incapable of ekeing out any more.
But he did orgasm.
Potter growled, digging his face in further, nose tight along his crack, beard hairs bristling over the sensitive skin there. He was sucking at Draco’s hole again, greedy and obscene, as though he’d never had another meal, as though he’d never eat again.
Draco felt wave after wave of something, his hole flexing and throbbing, clenching around Potter’s probing tongue, trying to suck it in.
It wasn’t enough.
“Please please please fuck -” He was gasping, chanting, desperate. “More, need more, oh Merlin.”
Potter snarled, beastly and hot, mouth refusing to leave it’s feast, but suddenly a finger was there, thrust inside.
Draco keened, awash with sensation as another finger squeezed into him, taking up a brutal pace as he was finger-fucked, Potter still tonguing furtively around his hole where it opened up around his fingers, sucking and lapping, wetness positively dripping.
Another finger entered him with a squelch, and it happened again. Draco screamed as he came, not from his cock, but from his hole.
He felt a gush of liquid squeeze out around Potter’s thick fingers as they hammered away at his hole, and he lit up with embarrassment.
He was getting wet.
“Oh fuck.” He gasped, “Oh Circe, what -”
He was on suppressants. He shouldn’t be getting wet. Couldn't be -
All thoughts and concerns left his head as another finger, Potter’s pinky, wormed its way inside, and Potter began thrusting, in, in, in with all four of his fingers, wedging his hole open, tongue and teeth and lips sucking at him as he was opened wide.
He came again, and suddenly he didn’t care about anything but -
“More.” Draco demanded, voice harsh and wrecked. “Fuck me!”
Potter didn’t stop, the width of his hand now pressed inside of Draco, snarling and growling as he tucked in his thumb, as well.
“Your. Fucking. Arse.” Potter rumbled, tonguing and lapping at Draco’s slick as he came all over Potter’s hand, shoved up in him to the widest part, pleasure wracking through him at the stretch.
“You taste- “ Potter sounded bewildered, desperate, furiously needy. “You’re slicking up for me. You’re so fucking wet, Malfoy, what-”
“Shut up, Potter.” Draco hissed, mortified and desperate. “Shut up and fuck me already!”
Potter stared at him, hard eyes assessing. Nearly his whole face was wet, his beard drenched, his nostrils flaring. He stared at Draco for a long, searching moment, and then looked back down at where most of his hand was buried in Draco’s arse, dripping with slick.
“Fine.” He bit out, dragging his fingers out of Draco. “Fine, but we’re talking about this later.”
With a furtive glance around the club, Potter waved a hand, and suddenly all of the knots of his rope slackened, slithering off of Draco’s skin as though commanded to release him.
Potter’s hands were harsh and quick as they stripped the rope from him, a pleased growl rumbling out of him at the marks they had left on Draco’s pale skin.
Draco went eagerly as his limbs were manipulated, his body turned onto his front.
His knees fit easily into the shape of the breeding bench, his arms draping into their designated spots as well. It was the work of moments for Potter to strap him in, buckling him tight and secure, legs spread wide, arse at the perfect height to be used.
He moaned as he settled into position, feeling himself leak more slick, ready and eager to be fucked.
“Potter, hurry up -” He was interrupted by a loud crack, followed by a stinging pain, and realized he'd been spanked.
He moaned, feeling his loosened hole tighten up at the pain, slick dripping down over his balls.
“I think you’re forgetting your place here, Malfoy.” Potter hissed, delivering another sharp slap to his other cheek. “You should be begging for my cock.”
Draco opened his mouth to reply, torn between begging and cursing the other man, but a broken moan ripped out of him instead, and he hung his head, submersed in the gorgeous feeling of fire licking over his backside and upper thighs as Potter kept spanking him.
He felt cloudy and light as the hits stopped, and a trail of kisses shivered up his spine. He let out a trill of pleasure, wiggling his arse back as he felt Potter’s hips butt up against him, the harsh press of dragonhide against his hot and tingling skin.
A hand worked between them, and Draco gasped as he felt the heavy slap of Potter’s naked cock against his reddened cheeks.
Potter hummed in pleasure as he rutted against him, finally slotting the length of his cock into the groove of his arse, riding along the slick still dripping there, getting himself nice and wet with Draco’s juices.
Draco would have thrashed if he could, desperate for it. He found he could no longer speak, and so he moaned and trilled, low and needy, trying to angle his strapped down hips to get Potter’s huge cock inside of his empty hole.
“Gunna fuck you now, baby.” Potter rumbled, pulling back from where he had draped himself over Draco’s back. He let his cock lay against Draco’s lower back, letting his precum pool in the dip of his spine. “You look so small under me, sweetheart. I don’t know if your arse will be able to take it.”
Draco felt himself sob, crying out with need, rutting his arse back as much as he could, trying to make Potter understand. He needed it.
“Shh, shhh.” Harry hushed, cooing to him. “I need you to calm down for just a second, baby. I need you to check in with me. What’s your colour, Draco?”
Draco whimpered, shaking his head, not wanting to answer, just wanting Harry to fill him up.
“Draco, baby, please. You’ve been so good for me.” Harry murmured, stroking over his shivering flanks. “Tell me your colour.”
Shaking, desperate, Draco finally managed to choke out; “Green.”
And then, finally, Harry was lining himself up, holding one of Draco’s red arse cheeks open as he fitted the head of his thick cock against his empty hole.
And then he squeezed it in.
Draco gasped as the thick head popped past the ring of resistance, eyes immediately rolling back into his head as he gushed around the intrusion, his body trying it’s best to slick the way.
A low rumble sounded behind him as Harry tried to freeze in place, waiting for Draco to adjust.
Draco trilled lowly, trying to rut back against the cock, managing to shove another inch or so in, and Harry cursed, losing himself for a moment as he instinctively thrust forward, burying another few inches into Draco’s welcoming heat.
“Merlin, I can’t-” Harry’s voice sounded broken. “You’re practically sucking me in, fuck. ”
Draco moaned a long, greedy approval as Harry fed him the rest of his cock, inch after inch sinking into him, filling him up.
It felt so fucking heavy inside of him, so hot and thick and alive. Better than anything he had ever felt.
He gasped as Harry hit something inside of him with the tip of his cock, butting up against that spot, encountering just the slightest bit of resistance.
Harry made a noise of confusion behind him, but Draco let out a desperate gasp, and shoved himself back, forcing the last inch of that massive cock in.
In.
A perfect fit.
Draco’s whole body lit up as he came harder than he ever had before. Nothing had ever been this deep inside of him, nothing had ever slipped up inside of that special spot.
He gurgled, still coming, his hole clenching and squeezing around the cock inside of him, out of his mind with pleasure.
“I can’t -” Harry gasped, voice wrecked. “Oh shit, your fucking arse-”
Draco keened happily as Harry pulled out, his cock twitching and throbbing, before slamming back in.
It felt so good, so full, dragging along the sensitive walls of his insides, battering against both of his sweet spots.
Harry was groaning constantly now, and had fairly collapsed on top of him, rutting in a thunderous rhythm, hips busily working his cock in and out of Draco’s tight heat in a furious rush.
Every pound of that thick cock into him made Draco feel like he was coming, over and over, every thrust rocking into that waiting wall of pleasure deep inside of him, rubbing perfectly.
There was a constant wet squelch where their skin met, the hair surrounding Harry’s cock dark with slick, wet and clinging as Draco gushed a constant rush of come around his prick, keeping him slick and easy to fuck, despite Harry’s massive size.
The skin of Draco’s arse was glistening, red and covered with a layer of slick as Harry shoved in harder and harder, squeezing out a press of wetness between their bodies as he tried to get deeper into that hungry hole that was sucking him in, milking his cock.
“I’m so fucking deep inside of that sweet hole, baby.” Harry growled, ramming harder, rocking his cock as far in as he could get it, wrenching Draco's cheeks open wider. “You’re fucking creaming all over my cock, sweetheart, God, you’re so wet for me. I can’t wait to lick it all up after I’m done fucking you.”
Draco moaned, feeling his arse clench hard as he came again at the words.
“Merlin, you’re so tight, milking me so good baby. You just keep coming on my cock, squeezing me over and over.” Harry murmured. “You that desperate for my come? Ready for me to breed this sweet cunt of yours?”
Eyes rolling back, Draco trilled, not a lick of embarrassment overcoming him at Harry’s words, only a desperate hunger.
“Breed me, please!” He begged, his hips shaking as he rutted back onto Harry’s cock, trying to work him deeper, needing his come deep inside.
“Oh sweetheart, you want me to knock you up? Want me to fill you so full of come that you’re dripping for days? Think I can get you pregnant with just one load, or will I need to keep breeding you all night?”
Draco was sobbing again, desperate, his hole spasming around Harry’s massive, heavy cock, the muscle fluttering as he came and gasped, trying to milk out the come he wanted so bad.
“Please!” He cried, aching and needy.
“I’m going to fill you so fucking full.” Harry bit out, hunching up and battering his cock into Draco’s hole, grinding himself in, in. “Gunna knock you up, sweetheart.”
Draco went limp as he felt Harry stilling inside of him, that massive cock throbbing, thick and twitching, lodged deep. There was a splash of heat, deep, deep inside of him, and he felt himself light up with pleasure, that spot inside of him eager for that hot liquid, twitching further open to take Harry deeper, the head of that thick cock pressing past a resistance inside of him that made Draco shriek with pleasure.
“Holy shit.” Harry breathed, his cock still throbbing and oozing out come. “What- “
Draco was nearly insensate, but was beginning to notice something odd beyond the pleasure that had erupted deep inside of him.
A mounting pressure, pressing against his hole.
He clenched, overworked rim squeezing tight around the growing pressure, and moaned in pleasure. Harry’s hands, tight on Draco’s hips, flexed and tightened, his nails digging sharp and prickling at his skin.
“Draco, I -”
The sharp prick of nails at his hips, the growing pressure at his clenching hole, and the blinding pleasure of heat at his core were suddenly blotted out by the sharp pain of Harry sinking his teeth into the meat of Draco's neck.
He screamed, torn between all eclipsing pain and pleasure, and felt his vision white out, his mind overwhelmed, finally.
He passed out.
***
Draco came to with a low moan.
His body, Merlin, he felt like he had been hit by the Knight Bus.
There was a low, comforting rumble coming from the warm body spooned up behind him, and strong, talented hands were running along his tender skin.
He was naked, unbound, covered in a blanket, and almost completely wrapped up in a stifling embrace.
Still, he was shivering, and felt... odd.
“Potter?” He ventured, wincing at how wrecked his voice sounded.
“You okay, Draco?” Harry asked, tone urgent.
“M’fine.” Draco muttered, feeling weirdly content, even if he did feel completely wrung out. He paused, taking stock of his body. “Are you... are you still... inside me?”
Harry hissed as Draco clenched, the blond hissing himself at the sharp stretch of his hole.
“Yes.” Harry gasped, arms tightening around him as Draco started to squirm away. “Don’t. Don’t try to move. I’m... I’m, er...”
“Potter, what in Merlin’s name is happening?”
“Er...”
“Potter!”
“I - “ Harry buried his nose in the back of Draco’s hair, and Draco had the feeling he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “IthinkIknottedyou."
“I beg your pardon?!" Draco hissed. “Care to repeat that?”
“I... I think I... knotted you?” The other man hedged, tone weak and tentative.
“You...” Draco felt lightheaded, unable to process the words. He was barely able to string a thought together, let alone try to deal with this.
“I’m sorry,” Harry burst out, “I didn’t know this could happen, it wasn’t on purpose -”
Draco snorted, allowing himself to go boneless, thoroughly done with the situation. “Of course not, Potter. Though, perhaps we ought to have expected a physical impossibility from you, of all people.”
Harry huffed, his hot breath ruffling the short hairs on the back of Draco’s neck.
“Am I hurting you?”
“I’m fine, Potter.” He griped, wiggling further into the warmth of his body, finding the ache in his arse surprisingly pleasant. He clenched again, and felt a gush of warmth fill him. “Now hush, and keep petting me.”
“Of course, your highness.” Harry demurred. “That was a pretty intense scene. I have some water here for you to drink, and some chocolate.”
“Are you part Dementor now as well, Potter?” Draco teased, but worked with Harry as he moved to bring the bottle of water to his parched lips.
“Ha, ha, Malfoy.” Harry snarked back. “It’s to help bring your blood sugars back up. You’re likely dehydrated and close to a sub drop, at the moment.”
Draco hummed, but allowed Harry to feed him little morsels of chocolate, sucking and licking at his fingers, causing the man’s cock to twitch and spurt more come inside of him.
“You’re utterly ridiculous, Potter.” Draco slurred. “You’re still coming?”
Harry grumbled out an annoyed sound, but continued tending to him.
“How long do you expect this to last?”
“Dunno.”
“Hmph.”
Draco closed his eyes, feeling nice and floaty and tingly, all of his limbs flush with sensitivity, his cock raw in a pleasant way.
He drifted in a pleasant haze until Potter made a sudden noise and stopped petting him.
“I think -”
“Oh!”
“Shit, shit -”
“Potter! How much did you come inside me, you absolute -”
“Oh Merlin, your arse, it’s positively dripping. God it looks so gorgeous, I want to -”
“Don’t you dare think about putting your mouth back down there!”
“Malfoy, please -”
“Absolutely not, just use a cleaning charm!”
“But it’s so hot, Malfoy.”
“I will hex your cock off, Potter, don’t test me -”
“Fine.”
With an annoyed motion, Harry waved his hand, and that addictively pleasant tingling feel of his potent magic washed through Draco, making his sore cock twitch, and his arse flutter.
“You’re still so loose, baby.” The bastard cooed, having shuffled down along Draco’s back, one big hand on his still red arse cheek, holding him open to look. “You used to be so tight and pink, and now you’re all red and fucked out and -”
“You are depraved, Potter!” Draco hissed, mortified, trying to move away.
Harry laughed, an easy, carefree sound, and wrapped him up in his stupidly muscled arms, which were now bare. “You love it, Malfoy. You can’t deny it, not after you came so hard that you started getting slick like a girl while I was eating you out.”
When had he undressed? How had Draco not seen?
Struggling and shoving at the other man’s stupid, muscley arms and chest, Draco found himself pinned, staring up into bright, happy green eyes and a sharp, crooked smile.
He’s so beautiful.
Wait, are his eyeteeth...?
“Potter!” He exclaimed. “You bit me!”
Harry looked bemused, and then his eyes flicked down, likely fixing on the spot where Draco could feel a dull throb along the base of his neck.
“Er -”
“You bit me, and you bloody well knotted me.” Draco pressed, poking a finger into that firm, hard, furry chest. God his torso was gorgeous. “It’s nowhere close to the full moon, and your teeth look like bloody fangs. What the hell is going on!?”
Harry’s brows furrowed, and he started to look deeply concerned.
“Has this ever happened before?” Draco demanded, poking him even harder.
“Well, sometimes I’m a bit... more wolfy, than normal.” Harry admitted, hedging. “I’ve never been exactly typical for a werewolf. But I’ve never bitten anyone, and definitely never knotted anyone.”
Draco rolled his eyes, huffing. “We’re going straight to St. Mungo’s then. I can only assume something completely baffling will happen to me, knowing your track record. Should’ve known better, really.”
Harry began to look genuinely uncomfortable, and his mouth pulled down into a contrite pout. “I’m really sorry, Malfoy -”
“Shut up and get dressed Potter, we’re going immediately.” Draco shoved at that firm chest, and was somewhat let down when the bigger man actually moved, fairly scrambling off of Draco.
Draco watched, keen eyed and trying to be as thorough as possible in his observations (for future Pensive use), as Potter shoved himself back into his clothing.
It really was a shame, covering up all that beautiful tanned, muscled skin.
He sighed, and then slowly began the process of redressing himself, having to stop to demand that Potter use his apparently unlimited wandless magical skill to fix the buttons on his shirt, and to transfigure it into something less scintillatingly see-through.
Harry had managed to clean their little area up (with a liberal, surreptitious use of a powerful cleaning charm), and had packed his rope back into his gym bag, by the time Draco had slipped back into his Louboutins.
Giving the dark haired man an arch look, Draco began to walk towards the exit, sensing Harry following at his heels.
As soon as they reached a quiet alley beside the club, Draco slipped an arm through Harry’s, waiting expectantly for him to apparate them, and they were off.
***
Draco allowed Harry to take the lead as he led them towards the Welcome Witch’s desk, and asked after his own personal Healer.
In scarcely a moment, they were ushered into a room, and told they would only need to wait a few minutes for Healer Preeti Shivpuri to arrive.
“I see it still pays to be the Ministry’s Golden Boy.” Draco observed, taking a very ginger seat in one of the patient chairs, watching as Harry began to pace restlessly.
“I admit it has it’s uses, occasionally.” Harry admitted, “Though most of the time it drives me up the wall.”
Draco was about to make a comment about Potter’s various worshipping fans, but the door suddenly opened, admitting a no-nonsense looking older witch, who immediately fixed Harry with a withering glare.
“What’ve you done this time, boy?” The woman demanded, and Draco was immediately won over.
“Er -”
“You don’t look injured.” She muttered, immediately firing off a diagnostic spell at him regardless. “A curse?”
Her discerning brown gaze swept over to Draco, eyeing him with curiosity.
“Actually, I... lost a bit of control, earlier, uh -”
Draco rolled his eyes. “We were having sex, and he seems to have adopted some unheard of werewolf characteristics. He knotted me, and then he bit me.”
Harry looked mortified, and was flushing a dark red as Healer Shivpuri looked between them.
She sighed.
“I’ll have to look into some research, but...” She was already waving her wand over Draco, casting spell after spell, eyes narrowed in concentration. “I’ll need to take some blood samples as well.”
Draco submitted to her tests, quiet and patient, all while Harry was still pacing back and forth, eyes filled with worry as he watched the two of them.
Finally, the woman stopped, collected her samples and charts, and stepped out of the room, saying she would be back shortly with any results from the tests.
“Malfoy, really I’m so sorry about this, I -” Harry started again, the moment the door shut behind her, coming forward to hover over Draco like an anxious mother hen.
“And I told you, Potter, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Draco insisted, “It’s just that, with our track record, I’d rather make absolutely sure nothing odd is going to happen.”
Harry pursed his lips in a frown, and then went back to pacing, eyes flicking to the door anytime there was the slightest hint of noise beyond it.
Draco rolled his eyes again, but felt a slightly pleased flutter in his chest at having this man being so plainly worried for him. He tried to suppress the dopey smile that threatened to bubble up from somewhere inside of him, and crossed his arms, huffing.
They were barely waiting more than a few more minutes before the Healer was back, her expression a mix between bemused, and amused.
“You’ve done it again, Potter.” She started, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head at him. “You baffle all magi-healing standards practically every time you come in here. It’s endlessly fascinating.”
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands, and Draco sat up straighter, alarmed.
“What’s wrong? What has he done this time?!” He demanded, staring at the Healer.
“You may rest easy knowing that Potter didn’t manage to infect you with the werewolf virus.” She immediately clarified, easing his initial worries.
Draco, still baffled, pressed on. “Then what has he done to me?”
A grimace of a smile graced her lips, and she looked at him with a piercing gaze that made him feel like she was staring through him, breaking him down into his component parts, to better understand his puzzle.
“You’re a veela.” She stated, summoning a medical chart and a quill.
“Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Draco said, aiming for nonchalance, even as he heard Harry make a squawk of surprise at the information.
“And you’re on suppressants.” She continued, also ignoring Harry.
“Of course, and I brew it myself, so I know it is effective.” Draco said, defensive, eyes narrowing in challenge.
“Of course.” The Healer agreed, squinting right back at him in challenge. “Though we all know that no potions are completely effective 100% of the time.”
“Of course.” Draco ground out, teeth clenching, worry building in his gut.
“You had some unusually high hormones present in your bloodwork.” The Healer continued, skimming down through the list. “Ones only present in a veela who is actively in a mating cycle.”
Draco felt himself teetering on the edge of a thought, his vision tunneling, his eyes fixed on the chart in the Healer’s hands. He barely heard Harry making noises resembling questions behind him.
“Would you like me to dismiss Potter from the room?” The Healer asked, her face morphing into something almost kindly, though the expression looked to pain her.
“N-no, I - “ Draco’s heart was beating furiously, and he reached out, unthinking, and found Harry eagerly holding his hand, taking the seat next to him and practically pulling Draco into his lap, making soothing noises. “He can stay.”
The Healer looked between them, and carried on.
“Birth control is one of the properties of the suppressant, correct?”
Draco nodded, numb. “It should be 99.9% effective.”
“Indeed.” The Healer agreed, staring at him, trying to give him time to draw the conclusion on his own.
“And veelas are only… receptive, in very specific circumstances.”
“Indeed.”
Harry made a questioning noise by his ear, and Draco shut his eyes. “Less than a 0.01% chance.”
The Healer nodded, and Draco could feel Harry staring at him.
“We only had sex once.” He whispered, disbelieving. “We literally just finished, how can that even be possible - ”
“I’m afraid Potter here is very... virile. And likely satisfied some of those… conditions, under which a veela might be receptive.” The Healer deadpanned, and Draco glared at her. Harry was still staring at him, mouth now hanging open. “May I do some additional diagnostics?”
Malfoy nodded, uncrossing his arms as the Healer aimed her wand at him again, this time directly at his abdomen.
At his womb. Which had apparently decided that now was a splendid time to magically manifest itself.
She made a noise of surprise, and Draco stared at her, horrified. What else could there possibly be? Was something wrong?
Was it twins?
“How amazing!” She exclaimed, shuffling closer, eyes narrowed as though to inspect something tiny. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What?!” Draco demanded, staring down at where her wand was pointing, feeling where Harry had gone tense beside him.
“It’s a very impressive little thing.” The Healer observed, and suddenly the diagnostics charm expanded, showing them both a bright little dot in the middle of a dark image. “It’s only a few cells big, and it’s already so bright with magic.”
“Like a little star.” Harry breathed, and Draco’s heart clenched.
“E-everything - everything is alright. With it?” Draco asked, voice tremulous.
The Healer nodded, flipping through a few additional spells, all of them incomprehensible to Draco. “It is very viable so far, but you must know that male veela pregnancies are challenging, and require a great deal of care, as well as magical intervention from the father. Should you want to keep it, that is.”
“Of course I’m keeping it.” Draco said, tone brooking no argument, almost offended. “Please book the necessary follow up appointments with whomever you think is most qualified to assist with my pregnancy, and owl me with a list all of the potions I’ll be needing.”
The Healer blinked at him, clearly taken aback at the sudden order. “I- alright?”
“Excellent.” Draco said, and gracefully pulled himself up out of his chair. “Was that all, then?”
The Healer blinked at him again, and then at Harry, who had stood as well, still staring at Draco, his green eyes lit back up with that look he had.
“Well, we still don’t know anything about why Potter bit you, and there is no known precedence for the knotting, but that will all take some additional research.”
Draco hummed, moving towards the door. “A problem for another day then. Thank you ever so for all of your assistance on this matter. I trust we can be assured of your discretion?”
The woman made a face at him, offended, “Of course, I am bound by the code of-”
“Excellent, thank you again.” Draco interrupted, and then curled a finger at Harry, making his way out of the room. “Come along now, Potter.”
Clicking through the hallways of St. Mungo’s towards the apparition point, Draco curled his arm through Potter’s once again, and with a sharp crack, they arrived outside of Draco's little flat in the heart of London.
He breezed through the door, opening the wards to admit Harry, and carefully took off his heels.
“Shoes off, Potter. I won’t have you trekking dirt in.”
Harry dutifully kicked off his shoes, following at Draco’s heels as he made his way to his bedroom, talking all the while.
“You’ll need to start renovations on Grimmauld place, of course.” Draco noted, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. “It’s still so ghastly, and I’m not surprised you moved out last year, but it does have more room than my flat and your cottage, so we’ll have to make it work.”
“Of course.” Harry murmured behind him, pulling off his own white henley and throwing it to the floor. Draco frowned, and used his wand to whisk it into his laundry basket.
“You’ll need to stay here in the meantime, to attend to my needs. Might as well move in while the renos are underway regardless.” He continued, peeling off his leggings, and carefully magicking them to hang by his bedroom door, ready for the specialty cleaning they required.
Potter finally took a hint and sent his trousers to hang alongside them. “Of course.”
Naked, Draco strode into his ensuite, turning on the shower and stepping in, groaning at the lovely heat against his tired and overused muscles. Potter was quick to join him, allowing Draco to hog all of the spray, and taking up the soap when the blond passed it to him.
Draco gave a pleased hum as Harry started working him over, rubbing at his skin, trailing over all of the marks he had made earlier.
“I’ll definitely be needing a massage.” Draco groaned, leaning against the wall as Potter began soaping up his arse, fingers slipping eagerly between his cheeks, petting his still-sore hole. “And you’ll need to set up a time to meet with Pansy and Blaise later this week. I don’t trust your taste at all when it comes to rings, and I’m sorry to say it, but Granger is not much better. I can’t believe she genuinely likes that monstrosity that Weasley bought her. It’s positively garish.”
Harry hummed in agreement, kneeling now to soap up Draco’s legs, one hand working over his cock, still soft and sensitive. Draco put a hand on the man’s broad shoulder, feeling weak at the knees.
“We- “ He choked on a breath as Potter stood back up, maneuvering him to wet his hair, before rubbing at his scalp with strong fingers, making Draco moan. “We’ll aim for a late Summer wedding. Before I start showing. But need enough - enough time for Mother and I to start planning. Ngh. P-pastel colour theme.”
“Sounds lovely,” Harry agreed, rinsing him off, before pulling them both out of the shower.
Draco shivered as he was wrapped in a large, fluffy towel, and picked up bodily, Harry carrying him back into the bedroom. The pleasant tingle of a drying charm rippled across his skin as he was laid out on the bed, towel forgotten on the floor.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying, Potter? Or have you just been fantasizing about eating my arse this whole time?”
Harry looked up at him from between his legs, big hands holding his thighs open, arse tilted up to expose him.
“I can manage both at the same time, you know.” Harry teased, grinning lecherously at him before settling down on his stomach between Draco’s legs, eyes fixed on the still lax hole peeking from between Draco’s bruised cheeks.
“Forgive me if I fail to believe -”
“Renovating Grimmauld, moving in, ring shopping with Pansy and Blaise, late Summer wedding. Pastels.” Harry parroted, green eyes staring up at him in challenge, looking impatient. “We’re having a baby.”
“And a massage.” Draco couldn’t help but point out. “But seriously Potter. You’re... you don’t - you’re fine with.” He stopped, biting his lip. “All this?”
Potter gave him a winning smile. “This might just be the best day of my life, Malfoy. Now let me celebrate by eating your arse until we both pass out.”
***
And they lived happily, ever after.