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“Fuck you, I’m so fucking sick of your stupid face.”
Harry finishes unbuttoning the crisp white shirt by ripping the last three buttons out.
There’s a frustrated groan as the buttons scatter across the stone floor, “I actually like this shirt.”
“Oh my god, it’s a bloody shirt, how can you care about it?” Harry bites a sharp collarbone, his tongue tracing the cool pale skin beneath.
“I actually care about things, unlike you.”
Harry snorts, “Christ, shut up already.” He groans as his own uniform shirt is pushed off his shoulders and they both remove their undershirts.
Harry ignores the pale scars running all over the most beautiful chest he’s ever seen. None of that matters, not right now.
He wraps his arms around a slender waist and pulls the other young man flush against his body, their hard cocks rutting together through their trousers as their hips meet.
“Fuck.”
“I’m trying to,” Harry huffs as he pushes them against a table.
There’s a sharp bite at his neck, just below his ear, it sends a chill through his system and he shudders. The kisses that follow, trailed down his jaw, they’re so light it makes Harry’s head swim.
He hears the noise of his belt being undone before he registers long fingers doing so, then Harry is watching in slow motion as his achingly hard cock slips free from his clothing.
God this is so surreal.
This had all started when Harry had been trying to find a quiet place in the castle to clear his mind, just be alone for ten bloody minutes.
The empty classroom he usually hangs out in had not been empty though, in fact, one of Harry’s least favorite people had been there. Sitting oh so pretty in Harry's favorite window that has a lovely view of the school grounds, reading a book, a half-eaten apple in one hand.
“What are you doing?” Harry had asked lowly when he entered the room he had expected to find empty.
Malfoy had glared up from his book, “Reading, did they ever teach you how?” He drawled.
“Piss off, Malfoy, why are you in here?” Harry had groused as he set his bag down on one of the tables.
“Salazar, Potter, it’s an empty classroom.” Malfoy had closed his book and leveled Harry with a look, “What are you so defensive of? Having a secret meeting here?” He took a bite out of his apple, a smug smile on his face.
Harry bristled, “You want an invitation?” he snapped, Merlin, Malfoy knew how to get under his skin. Harry just wanted to be alone.
Malfoy had raised a single eyebrow, “Yes, actually.” Harry wanted to slap the smirk off Malfoy's pointy face. Prick.
“Alright, Malfoy.” Harry pulled his books and parchment out of his bag, “You are cordially invited to go fuck yourself.”
Malfoy had been smirking even wider when Harry looked up at him.
“You do realize you just implied that this is your secret classroom where you come to think about fucking me, right?” Malfoy asked gleefully.
“You wish I thought about fucking you, you prat.” Harry snapped.
Draco had set his book and apple to the side and leaned forward, “Oh, yes, please. That’s what I need in my life. The great, amazing, wonderful saviour to have dirty fantasies about me. Want me on my knees, Potter?” Malfoy pushed himself off the window sill he was sat in. “Want me gagging for your cock? Bent over and ready for you to pound my tight little arse?” Malfoy walked closer, hands folded behind his back, his height looming over Harry.
“Or would you rather it the other way around? You sucking me off, swallowing my load? You want to be full of me?”
He was taunting Harry, but the words did something to him.
Harry had crossed his arms over his chest, trying to make himself bigger, “Merlin, you’re delusional. How can you still be so cocky?”
"Cocky?" Malfoy had tipped his chin up with a proud smirk, “Or confident, Potter?.” He stepped into Harry's personal space, his body heat seems to radiate off him in the cool classroom.
Harry had put his hands up to push Malfoy away, but the moment he touched Malfoy’s chest, something changed. He fisted his hands into Malfoy’s robes, tugged Malfoy down until their noses were nearly touching. “I hate you.” Harry had growled.
Honestly, he isn’t sure who closed the gap and kissed the other first. It was rough, teeth and tongues and swearing at one another as they ripped at each other’s clothing.
Now Harry’s trousers are halfway down his thighs and he’s fumbling with Malfoy’s belt like he’s never used one before.
“Fuck, you’re fucking helpless.” Malfoy sighs and slaps Harry’s hand away. Then he’s undoing his flies and pushing his clothes down. The moment that the head of his cock peeked out, shiny and pretty, Harry hears himself gasp.
He grabs Malfoy’s hips and pushes him back against the table. Their cocks brush together and Malfoy digs bruises into Harry’s shoulder.
Harry wraps his hand around both of them and finds a rhythm in just a few strokes. Within seconds, Malfoy is melting in his arms, the soft moans passing his lips are intoxicating.
“Fuck, dammit,” Harry swears under his breath. Malfoy’s fingers scrape for purchase against Harry’s bare back, his nails bite in slightly and Harry arches his back with a groan, chills spread down Harry's arms. “Oh, my god.” Malfoy mutters, then he drags his nails down the entire length of Harry’s back, over both arse cheeks. He grabs hold of Harry’s hips and rolls them forward, meeting Harry in the motion and rutting them together in Harry’s palm.
They both moan, and this time when they kiss, it’s softer, tongues meeting, nipping at one another’s lips playfully.
“So, which way is it?” Malfoy asks, he kisses his way onto Harry’s jaw, up to his earlobe. Malfoy nibbles and sucks at Harry’s earlobe lightly, which makes Harry’s knees literally buckle. “Who sucks who off in your dirty little fantasies, Potter?”
Harry is on his knees before he knows what’s happening, they’ll be bruised from how quickly he drops to them. Malfoy’s eyes widen like that had not been the response he was expecting. None of this is what Harry had been expecting, he's never thought of Malfoy like this before. Or, maybe he has, it's all a bit confusing. Something in his brain is telling him this is probably a horrible idea, some small, very reasonable voice in the back of his mind.
But Harry’s got Malfoy’s cock in his hand, it’s thicker than Harry had expected, and there’s a single throbbing vein that runs up the bottom of the shaft, he has neatly trimmed blonde hair framing the base. Harry’s mouth waters just looking at it, and after glancing up at Malfoy through his lashes-
Fuck, Malfoy looks good like this.
Harry wraps his lips around the head of Malfoy’s cock, swirls his tongue in a circle, and pulls back. A string of precome is caught between Harry’s lower lip and Malfoy’s prick and both of them moan. Malfoy’s hands fall into Harry’s hair and he urges Harry back onto his cock. Harry puts his hands on Malfoy’s thighs, his fingers exploring for sensitive spots of their own volition.
Malfoy thrusts his hips forward slowly, surely, his mouth hanging open as he gasps. Harry takes it. He’s honestly kind of impressed with himself, maybe he wanted this more than he realized.
“Fuck, Potter.” Malfoy groans, Harry swallows more of him down, until his nose is buried against Malfoy’s alabaster skin.
He smells so good, like sandalwood and clean linen and sweet musk, Harry drags in a deep breath. He pulls his head back until he has just the tip of Malfoy’s cock in his lips, and he sucks hard at the head until Malfoy digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulder.
Harry begins bobbing his head, laving his tongue, losing himself in the feeling and the taste of Malfoy on his tongue, filling his mouth up. He glances up at Malfoy and Malfoy's head has fallen back, his pale throat working around his gasps and moans. When he looks back down at Harry a moment later, his lips are parted and his pupils blown wide. Harry runs his fingers up Malfoy's slim waist, tweaks one pert nipple, and elicits a groan from Malfoy.
Harry’s so fucking hard, his cock throbs and demands attention where it hangs neglected between his thighs. But God he doesn’t care. He starts sucking faster, harder, he can imagine Malfoy's lips wrapped around his own prick, the thought alone is enough to make Harry's head swim.
In fact, this entire experience is making Harry a bit fuzzy.
All that he can think, taste, smell, breathe, feel, is Malfoy. Harry trails his fingers along Malfoy’s left thigh, over his sharp hip bone, down to palm at his balls. Malfoy groans, “Fuck, your mouth is incredible.”
Harry moans around Malfoy’s prick, the words go straight to his head and make him tingle. Harry picks up the pace, moving his head faster, sucking and licking and touching and doing everything he can to draw every little noise from Malfoy. He needs it, holy shit Harry needs this.
Malfoy is putty in Harry’s hands, body completely lax against the table, one hand tangled in Harry’s curls and the other digging pinpricks of pain into Harry’s shoulder. For several minutes, the only sound is Harry's sucking and Malfoy's gasping.
Has Harry thought about this before? Thought about Malfoy like this before?
“I’m close, Potter,” Malfoy whispers hoarsely, and any questions leave Harry’s mind.
He’s definitely thought about this before, and fucking hell does he want it.
Harry moans, in fact, he can’t stop moaning. There’s spit running down his chin and Malfoy is salty and throbbing between his lips and his hand is still holding Malfoy’s tight, drawn-up balls.
Fucking fuck, Harry is going to make Draco Malfoy come.
Finally.
“Fuck!” Malfoy moans loudly, his breathing quickens and he swears at the crest of every breath. His prick throbs in Harry’s mouth and the first wet splash of his come filling Harry’s mouth is everything Harry has never known that he always wanted.
Harry swallows it all, his mouth and throat working around Malfoy’s cock, Malfoy’s fingers are tight in Harry’s hair, holding him as if his life depends on it.
Everything is still for a moment, quiet except for their gasps. Harry leans back on his knees, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, he’s grinning like a maniac.
There’s a smile on Malfoy’s face, too, one Harry has never seen before. Malfoy pulls him up off the floor and kisses him, licking the taste of himself from Harry’s mouth. Fuck, that's hot.
“What else happens in your filthy mind, Potter?” Malfoy asks softly, the glow of orgasm makes his skin luminous.
Harry nips Malfoy’s lower lip, “You tell me to sod off and we don’t speak for three weeks.”
Malfoy chuckles, “We’ll get to that later.” He wraps his hand around Harry’s neglected cock. “I was thinking about something else first.”
“Yeah?” Harry asks.
Malfoy nods, “Yeah, see, you’re not the only one with perverse fantasies.”
“No, I’m sure you have plenty.” Harry quips back. Malfoy bites Harry’s lower lip and Harry decides he very much likes this game they’re playing. It feels like the end of all the games they've played over the years. Perhaps people were right when they said Harry just needed to shag Malfoy.
“God, reckon the only time you stop talking is with my cock in your mouth.” Malfoy pulls Harry’s hair, licks a stripe up the side of Harry’s neck.
“Were you going to tell me what you’re thinking about or are you just going to keep talking about me?” Harry digs his fingers into Malfoy’s hips, trails them up onto his back, traces the outline of Malfoy’s spine. He feels so good in Harry’s hands, his skin, his warmth, Harry almost wishes he didn't hate Malfoy so much.
“I want you inside me.” Malfoy says against Harry’s throat, “Fuck me, Potter. Right here, bend me over the table and make me take your cock.”
It would be rude to deny the man what he wants, so Harry pushes Malfoy down onto the nearest table, flat on his chest. Oh, fuck, Malfoy has a perfect arse. Holy fuck, Harry’s going to destroy him.
Harry brings one palm down against Malfoy’s perfectly round arse cheek and Malfoy moans into the crook of his elbow. “Come on, been waiting for this for years.”
“Years?” Harry croaks as he finds his wand in the mess of their clothes and murmurs a spell, slicking his fingers generously.
“Years, Potter.” Malfoy repeats, pushing his hips back towards Harry.
“Suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting then.” Harry spreads Malfoy and moans at the sight of his tight furled little hole, so perfect, ready for Harry to fill it up.
Malfoy pushes himself up onto his forearms and looks back as Harry traces one well-slicked finger over his entrance. “Fucking hell,” Harry mutters.
“Any day now, Potter.” Malfoy sighs dramatically.
Harry shoots him a dirty look and pushes one finger all the way inside Malfoy. He was going to say something spiteful, but fucking hell, Malfoy is hot and tight and clenches around Harry’s finger and Harry can only gasp.
“More,” Malfoy demands immediately, Harry gives it to him. Not because Malfoy wants it, but because Harry needs it.
He buries two fingers all the way inside Malfoy, watching as he stretches, rutting his cock against Malfoy’s thigh slowly.
Malfoy lifts one leg to rest on the table beside him, stretching himself open for Harry even wider, “I hate you.” Malfoy reminds him.
Harry crooks his fingers and presses into Malfoy’s prostate, making the blonde moan loudly. “I hate you.” Harry agrees.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” Malfoy lies. Harry can hear that it’s a lie, and both of them know it. If anything they've ever done to one another means anything, it's this. It’s laughable, but Harry nods. “Trust me, I’m still gonna hate you.”
Malfoy snorts, “Then we're on the same page. Get on with it, don’t make me beg.”
Harry steps between Malfoy’s spread legs, slicks his cock well, and removes his fingers from Malfoy’s tight hole. Malfoy is hard again, his cock is so fucking nice and pretty hanging between his thighs that Harry can’t help but want it again.
Harry spreads more lube over Malfoy's entrance, then he leans over to bite Malfoy’s shoulder.
“This is alright, right?” Harry asks seriously. "I won't go any further unless you tell me this is what you want." He means it, too, he and Malfoy have disrespected each other in innumerable ways over the years. Consent is one line they'd never cross though, Harry knows that.
Malfoy nods, “Yes, Potter, I want you to fuck me. I meant that. I also mean that I hate you.”
Harry bites him once more and huffs a laugh as he leans back to line up with Malfoy’s entrance. Pushing into the heat of Malfoy’s body, watching as he stretches for Harry’s cock to slide into him bit by bit until he’s fully sheathed inside Draco sodding Malfoy, it's a bit like a dream. A filthy, hot, wet dream that leaves Harry aching in the morning. A dream Harry has had for years, hopes to see every night when he closes his eyes.
“Oh my god, fuck.” Harry gasps, “You’re so tight, feels so good.”
Malfoy moans, “Fuck me, fuck me, gods.” he covers his mouth with one hand and whimpers into his palm. "Yes, yes, yes."
Harry grips Malfoy's hips and makes one slow thrust, grinding his hips at the end of it, then he begins a bruising pace. Slamming his cock into the tight heat of Malfoy’s body, feeling him clench and watching the muscles in his back ripple as he grips the table under him.
Fuck, Harry hates this man. Why is he so bloody perfect? Why does he get to be so pretty? Have such a nice cock and a tight hole? And the most perfect arse Harry has ever seen? It genuinely isn’t fair. If it weren't for Malfoy's personality and demeanor and upbringing and family, Harry mightn't hate him so much. There's history, though, undeniable, hard, rough history. It's written on Malfoy's chest, it's burned into their brains. It makes everything about this entire situation burn that much hotter, and Harry feels as though they were always going to end up here.
Harry puts both hands on the table on either side of Malfoy, he fucks into Malfoy hard and deep, grinding into Malfoy’s prostate and making those long, pale legs shake.
Malfoy whimpers and moans and swears and the noises all go right through Harry.
He needs more.
Harry puts both hands on Malfoy’s back, pins him down to the table.
“Yes,” Malfoy gasps, and Harry loses it. The sound of their skin meeting is loud in the mostly empty room, Harry could do this forever. Harry has needed to do this forever.
He fucks Malfoy hard, fast, angry; he hates this man. This pretentious, smart, sarcastic, pretty, condescending, prick of a man. Malfoy arches his lower back and throws his hips back into Harry's thrusts. Harry growls, “Fuck, your arse is so good, Malfoy.”
“Such a big cock,” Malfoy moans, Harry tangles his fingers into Malfoy’s white-blonde hair and pulls, stretching Malfoy’s head back, exposing his long and pale throat. Harry catches his lips in a rough kiss, Malfoy moans into Harry's mouth as he licks his way into Harry's mouth. When they break apart panting, Harry buries himself all the way inside Malfoy, grinding his hips slowly.
“You’re pretty good at taking my cock.” Harry says roughly, making Malfoy hold eye contact with him.
“I’m pretty good at everything I do.” Malfoy snarks, Harry spanks him, “Shut the fuck up, god.”
Harry pushes Malfoy’s face down against the pitted wood of the tabletop, keeping one hand on Malfoy’s waist, Harry reaches to wrap his other hand around Malfoy’s cock.
Malfoy whines, he arches his back further, “More, more.” He demands.
“Gonna come for me again?” Harry rasps out, “Of course you would, your dirty little fantasy wouldn’t just be a quick blow job, would it?”
“Fuck you,” Malfoy says into the crook of his arm, he’s gasping wetly against his skin, a fine sheen of sweat covers his body.
“What do you think is happening right now?” Harry snaps his hips forward hard to emphasize the point.
“Just a bit of harmless flirting,” Malfoy says smartly.
“You’re such a slag,” Harry says, thrusting hard and rough. His own orgasm is building fast, he’s fighting it off at this point, determined to draw this out as long as he can. His cock grows heavy, his balls are tight with pleasure.
This will likely never happen again, unless it does, which would be fine by Harry.
“Harder, more.” Malfoy demands, “Make me come for you.”
Harry strokes Malfoy’s cock, deliberately aiming his thrusts for the blonde's prostate, intentionally trying to drag any bit of pleasure he can from this. For himself, of course, he couldn’t care less if Malfoy...
Okay, so maybe he cares a bit if Malfoy is enjoying this.
Maybe Harry wants Malfoy to never forget this, to go back to his bed, and to feel Harry’s hands on him still. Maybe Harry wants to consume Malfoy’s mind, own his body, command his emotions. Maybe Harry wants this to happen again, and again. Maybe Harry wants to be on his knees, full of Malfoy, see that sharp tongue do something nice for once.
Maybe Harry just really, really wants to make him come again.
Malfoy whines under Harry, arching his back and panting, “Yes, yes, yes.” His body is clenched tight around Harry, each thrust feels like the first, and Harry’s own toes are tingling.
“Right there, right there, right bloody there!” Malfoy cries out, he throws his head back and moans, “Gonna-“ is all he manages before he’s coming again. Harry strokes him through his release, the hot spunk covering his fingers, still fucking hard and fast into Malfoy. It’s over, though, Harry can’t fight this anymore. Malfoy's whole body seems to throb and quiver, it's easily the hottest thing Harry has ever laid eyes on.
The pleasure undulating through his body takes over, washes over him from head to toe, everything in his body clenches tight to a crescendo before exploding.
“Gonna come, Malfoy.” Harry gasps.
Malfoy reaches back and grabs both of Harry’s hips, urging Harry faster, harder, closer. “Fill me up, Potter, fill my hole with your load.” Malfoy says, his voice is breathy and fucked-out and it’s like a punch to Harry’s gut.
Unthinkingly, Harry takes hold of one of Malfoy’s hands, and their fingers naturally tangle together. Harry’s left leg begins to shake and he thrusts into Malfoy three more times, his hips stuttering.
His orgasm takes his breath away, and he hears himself gasp and cry out and moan as he digs bruises into Malfoy’s waist with one hand. His cock twitches and throbs where it’s buried deep inside Malfoy’s tight body, and Harry empties himself inside of Malfoy.
He comes so hard that he nearly collapses, he clings tight to Malfoy’s hand and the blonde clings back. Malfoy pushes himself up onto his forearm and Harry falls forward to rest his forehead against Malfoy’s shoulders.
They both gasp for air, the only sound that fills the room for a long moment.
They stay like that, Malfoy bent over, Harry covering him, hands clasped together, for a few minutes. Harry slips from Malfoy naturally, both of them moan softly.
Malfoy is the one who mutters the cleaning charm that makes quick work of their mess on each other and the old stone floor. Harry nips Malfoy’s shoulder one last time before he steps back, their fingers finally trailing apart.
Malfoy turns around, leans against the desk, and looks at Harry with a smug smile. Harry can’t help but return that smile, this was actually a lot of fun. Harry wouldn’t mind playing this game again and again.
Malfoy begins kicking around in the mess of clothes on the floor, “I just remembered you ruined my shirt,” he grumbles with a frown.
Harry snorts, then chuckles, then starts laughing, then he’s lost it entirely. He has to put his hands on his knees and wipe the mirth from his eyes by the time he recovers. Malfoy is grinning, watching Harry with an unfamiliar look in his eye as he sorts out their clothing.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny, Potter, I really did like that shirt.” Malfoy grouses as he begins throwing Harry’s clothes at him. “I remember why I hate you so much.”
“Oh, you remember?” Harry teases as he begins dressing, “Did you forget for a minute there?”
Malfoy glares at him, “You’re the one who started this, pervert.”
Harry laughs, “I started this? How?? You’re the one who started talking about sucking my cock!” he fastens his trousers, pulls on his undershirt, and begins buttoning his uniform shirt.
“Oh my god, you’re the one who followed me to an empty classroom after making eyes at me all day.” Malfoy is fussing with his trousers, which are tailored quite nicely to his frame, now that Harry looks. Now that Harry knows what's underneath all that black and emerald green fabric, now that Harry has seen lithe muscle and pale skin.
“I was not making eyes at you all day,” Harry states firmly, suddenly unsure of if he had been.
“Oh?” Malfoy shoots him a quizzical look, “Alright then, tomorrow I’ll spend all day acting how you did today. Then you can be the judge of how badly you wanted this.”
Harry pulls his robes on and glares mildly at Malfoy, “You’re going to spend the whole day acting like me? Meaning you’ll be nice to your friends and won’t go out of your way to be a git?”
Malfoy doesn’t even look away from his reflection in one of the windows where he’s tying his tie, “Meaning I’ll cause entirely too much trouble for others and look helplessly clueless the entire time.” He turns back to Harry with a comically lost look on his face, "How was that? I've been practicing."
Harry rolls his eyes as he loosely ties his tie, "Prick."
Then they’re standing there staring at each other once more.
“Well, this was enlightening,” Malfoy says, he picks up the book he had been reading and shoves it in his bag. “I still hate you.” He says as he shoulders the bag, he picks his apple up and takes another bite out of it.
Harry finds himself grinning, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Malfoy smirks at him, his eyes sparkle playfully, he turns towards the classroom door before stopping, “Oh, I nearly forgot your fantasy.” He turns back and tips his chin up, looking every bit as aristocratic as he is. “Sod off, Potter, don’t speak to me for three weeks.”
Harry laughs out loud and shakes his head, he catches Malfoy winking at him as he closes the classroom door.
Harry decides that this was much, much better than ten minutes alone.
Who knows? Maybe Harry and Malfoy will hate each other this much tomorrow, too.