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I wake with a shiver—the quiet broken only by the stirring of a cold draft as it sweeps under our door.
I roll to my side and lift his leaden arm, curling into his warm embrace. His arms instinctively tighten around my shaking shoulders—even in sleep, he craves affection. Always needing me close, and closer still. I smile and press my ear against his chest, relishing the soft thump-thump of his heart.
It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been, I’ll never get over the miracle that is Harry Potter.
The steady rise and fall of his chest lulls me into the tranquil liminality between sleep and wakefulness. It’s just me and Harry, wrapped in each other, cocooned in the refuge of our bed. It’s everything I never thought I would have, and I doze peacefully for seconds that fade into long minutes.
“Draco.” His hoarse whisper breaks the silence. “Please.”
I worry about nightmares, about the terror that plagued him for so many years after the War, but his face is untroubled as he mumbles incoherently—still fast asleep. Awash in moonlight, he’s beautiful and serene. I trail my lips across the scars littering his chest, conjuring devotion with every gentle kiss.
I’m here, you’re safe. I love you.
Drowsy, I drift in and out until he shifts restlessly. His fingers graze my spine, an indistinct warmth pooling in my belly…I might be dreaming. My thoughts are hazy and unfocused, and it takes me countless moments to recognise the insistent heat against my hip.
It sends a shiver up my spine, but I’m no longer freezing.
It’s happened before—only once—and it had been an accident.
Harry had forgotten to light a fire, and in the dead of winter, our room grew unbearably cold. I’d awoken—shivering, exactly like tonight—and pulled him closer. He was, is, always warm as the sun, even while naked and covered in only a sheet.
Pressed together, my soft cock settled against the cleft of his arse, and although I had tried to slip back to sleep, my traitorous body had other ideas. I couldn’t stop my gentle rutting—his skin lush and glowing, his body sweet and warm. When Harry had blinked his eyes open, I tried to turn away, but his hand locked tightly over my hip.
“Don’t stop.”
I’d give Harry anything he asked for, and I did.
He asks for so little, even as he aches with want. Having been punished for every question, for every morsel of food, for the crime of daring to be a child—most days he’s too afraid to ask for anything.
So I do it for him.
I make him tea, with four scoops of sugar, before he knows he’s thirsty. I know the cadence of his breathing that precedes a nightmare, and wake him before the screaming starts. I recognise the pain in his eyes that means he needs to be hugged, to hear that he’s cherished—when he needs inexhaustible love to fill the enduring cracks in his heart.
I give him everything he can’t ask for.
And with his straining erection, my name in his mouth, Harry’s asking for me.
He stirs as I wandlessly conjure lube, and let it warm in my hand until he settles again. My fingers slowly circle his hole as I bury my face in his neck. I want to savour every moment. I want to take my time.
We have all night.
Harry—his scent, his arms, his warmth—all of him surrounds me as I gently lick along his collarbone, the shuddering pulse in his neck. I pet his arsehole lightly, worshipping every part of him I can touch.
He’s perfect.
I have to contain my desire—already (always) so desperate for him. I concentrate on ensuring my every move is unhurried as he unfurls beneath me. It’s decadent, every stroke of my persistent fingers an indulgence. Finally, finally, I sink a finger into him, into that delectable heat.
And with a muted gasp, he wakes. Rough hands tense and then slide down my back as I whisper, “Shh, I’m here. You’re safe.”
He presses a kiss against my tousled hair, and sighs—a hushed exhalation that I can’t be sure belongs to him and not me—before he surrenders. Relaxing, he goes pliant against me, and I slip another finger into him.
He whimpers and I kiss the sound from his mouth. It’s tender and sweet, the leisurely kiss at odds with the fervent rocking of his hips. Harry’s holding back, invariably worried that he’s too much, but I can’t get enough. I always want more. I want to luxuriate in everything he is.
I pull his lip between my teeth, gently biting at the soft flesh until he succumbs. Groaning, he tangles his fingers in my hair and rolls me onto my back. I can barely breathe, his broad chest pushing me into the mattress, and he grinds against my throbbing cock, my fingers slipping free. I could finish like this—Harry unyielding, arching over me as we rut against each other until we’re both sticky and sated. We’ve done it that way a thousand times.
But I know what he really wants, what he’s not asking for.
“Wait,” I gasp into his relentless mouth. “Harry—please.”
Panting, he pulls back, and traps me with his intense gaze—the strain in his shoulders evidence of his desperation. I kiss his lips, his cheek, his jaw, my tongue light along the shell of his ear. “Sweetheart, let me take care of you.”
With a shudder, he nods.
“On your knees.”
He groans, splaying his hands against the headboard, as I crawl out from under his considerable frame. Moonlight emphasises the powerful curve of his spine, the soft curls falling around his ears—highlighting his splendour in fragments.
“You’re perfect, so beautiful.” I move behind him, slotting our thighs together, and I run my hands reverently over his supple skin, along the shifting muscles of his back. Down and down, kneading his arse as he shivers beneath my lingering touch. “I love you like this, so open for me.”
I ease my fingers in and out of his reddened hole while my other hand finds his nipple, rolling the hardened nub between my fingers.
“I wish you could see yourself.” I watch as my fingers disappear inside him, his breaths coming faster and faster, his body taut with need.
“Do you know what you do to me?” I say as I push the head of my cock alongside my probing fingers, and he groans, canting his hips back. “Do you know how much I need you?”
I bottom out, his velvety arse hot and tight—it takes everything in me not to come immediately. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so good for me.”
“Baby—please,” he cries. Trembling, he writhes against the bed. “I need…I need—”
I roll my hips, revelling in the gasp it elicits. “Tell me.”
He moans shamelessly, hands clenched in the sheets, sweat dripping down his back. He’s flushed and gorgeous, and it hits me again how truly lucky I am. To see him like this, to have earned his trust, to devote myself entirely to him.
“I love you. I’ll give you anything…anything you want.”
“I-I can’t—please—”
“Shh, it’s alright.” He’s shaking, so scared of putting his desire into words. I pull firmly on his hips, buried to the hilt in his arse. “I’ve got you.”
His cock hangs heavy between his legs, ruddy and leaking, as I thrust into him again and again. He must be desperate for relief, but he clutches the sheets, lets me fuck him hard and fast.
Giving him everything he deserves—absolution, the freedom to be wholly himself—I utter the most guarded wishes of his heart.
“I’m going to come—so deep you’ll be dripping for days.” A low whine escapes his throat, and I free one of my hands to wrap around the base of his cock. “I’m going to fill your arse—you’re mine. You belong to me. And I know what you want, what you need.”
“O-oh…fuckfuck.”
“Ah, ah, not yet, sweetheart.” I make a tight fist and he whimpers. “I want you full. So full, soaked and messy and all mine. Is that what you want? To be full of my come?”
There’s no hesitation, no waver in his voice as he sobs, “Please.”
“You’re so good for me.”
And I drive into him. I’ve been on the edge for so long, I give in easily. I fuck him, whipping my hips—the roar of my pulse drowns out his harsh cries, and I slam my eyes shut as pleasure rips up my spine. I’m so deep—coming and coming—filling his arse, giving him everything I have.
I come back to myself in pieces—my hand wrapped around Harry’s throbbing cock, my hair plastered to my forehead, the luscious heat surrounding me.
Softening, I slip out of him. He mewls—always vocal, he can’t hold himself back entirely, his tender heart flayed open. Come leaks across his swollen rim and I push in three shaking fingers. It’s a bold claiming as I force my release further into his twitching hole—I want this just as much as he does.
His thighs quake as he stutters, “D-Draco—please. I-I need—”
“Alright, you’re okay—I’ve got you.” I pull my fingers free, smearing come across his arse. “Lie down, sweetheart.”
He collapses onto the mattress, and I tuck myself against him, pulling his back to my chest.
“Can you take more? I’ll make it so good for you,” I say, licking a stripe up his neck, the salty tang of his skin heaven on my tongue. “I’ll make you come so hard.”
I can feel his desperation as he nods. He’s beyond words, whimpering as his head lolls against my shoulder and he grinds his arse against my sensitive cock.
It’s a simple spell, and I cast—my cock thickening, honeyed lust whispering through my veins. He groans, clutching my hands against his heaving chest as I slide in, inch by inch.
“You’re so wet—fuck. Going to fill your pretty arse again.”
I pull out slightly before angling my hips and slamming back into him. He shouts, “Oh fuck—there. Ah-ah…don’t stop.”
Fucking his sopping hole, I make a loose fist around his cock, and give him what he wants—what he’s finally asking for. I do everything I can to take Harry apart, but with him writhing against me, our mingled scents heavy in the air, I’m quickly on edge—aching and breathless. Relentlessly, he fucks into my hand as my cock hits his prostate over and over.
It’s perfect. I’ve never loved anyone as much as him and I want him to feel it, every delicate beat of my heart, as we tumble over the edge together. He keens as his hot release coats my fingers and, overwhelmed, I can’t stop from coming again.
It’s unending, devastating ecstasy, and his arse clenches around me as his orgasm goes on and on.
When Harry’s utterly spent, drawing in a shaky breath and sagging in my arms, I whisper a gentle cleaning charm. I press a kiss to his neck and wrap the duvet around us.
Still hard, tight and deep in him, I ask, “How do you feel?”
“Sleepy.”
I chuckle, running my fingers through the hair on his chest until he hums contentedly.
“Will you—” he murmurs, “Will you stay in me…until I fall asleep?”
My heart nearly bursts, for this man I love so much, who asks for so little, and I have to swallow around the lump in my throat. “Oh sweetheart, of course. As long as you want.”
“I love you,” he sighs, breathing evenly, already falling asleep.
“I’m here, you’re safe.” Pulling him close, and closer still, I whisper, “I love you too.”