Title: "Damn, your calves look good in those cargo shorts" Sex
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: ~1,550
Content/Warnings: established relationship, dirty talk, Draco's sexy calves and Harry's weird obsession with them, blow jobs, face-fucking, semi-public!sex, sex in a broomshed
Summary: Harry gets turned on by Draco wearing cargo shorts.
Notes: Lovely alisanne: I've been frantically trying to think of something to write for you these past few weeks. You are such a sweet, wonderful, talented, kind presence in fandom, and it's really just impossible to create a fic that does you justice! I needed to write a 50 Reasons ficlet, so I went through my remaining reasons and tried to pick a fluffy, silly, sexy one to make you smile. I really hope you enjoy this, hon, I hope your recovery goes smoothly, and I hope you have the most amazing of birthdays! <33
Thanks to capitu and fantasyfiend09 for looking this over for me! I played around with it a bit since, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
50 Reasons to Have Sex Masterlist
Read on AO3
He'd made a grave error, Harry thought as he leaned surreptitiously against the old oak tree in the Weasleys' backyard. He glanced around and tried to casually cover his embarrassingly obvious erection. A very grave error indeed.
To be fair, it wasn't entirely his fault. Yes, he was the one who'd invited Draco to the Weasleys' annual summer barbeque (they had been dating for almost six months now), and yes, he was the one who'd told Draco point-blank that he was not allowed to wear his formal robes to the outdoor event (it was the middle of summer for Merlin's sake), and yes, he was the one who'd suggested that Draco just borrow something of Harry's to wear (so they wouldn't be late). But honestly, there was no way that Harry could have known what Draco would select for himself, and he certainly could not have predicted his own reaction.
Harry couldn't deny, as he watched Draco chatting amiably to Hermione from across the lawn, that part of the appeal was that Draco was wearing Harry's clothing. A shiver of possessive pride made it's way down his spine at the sight of Draco in one of his pale blue button-ups. True, he never wore it, because everybody seemed to agree that it wasn't really Harry's colour, but it was still his. He wondered how often he could convince Draco to wear it, since it was clear that it was very much Draco's color. Yes, seeing Draco dressed in Harry's things was undeniably arousing, but if it had just been that, then Harry could have handled it. The fact that the clothing belonged to Harry, was not the problem.
The problem was the shorts.
Harry was relatively certain that Draco had never worn a pair of shorts in his life, and seeing him now, Harry realised that he'd probably had the right idea. Because the sight of his legs, clad in Harry's khaki cargo shorts, was frankly obscene. It wasn't just that Harry was positive that Draco had been pretty free with the tailoring charms, because no way were the shorts supposed to cling to one's arse like that. And it wasn't only the shock of seeing Draco wear something with so many pockets, something so very obviously casual, in complete contrast to his normally formal self. No, what really drew Harry's eyes, what made Harry physically unable to stop staring at Draco, what caused Harry's cock to harden to extreme uncomfortableness, was Draco's calves.
Draco's calves—the entire bottom half of his legs—just standing there, parading themselves out in the open for anybody to gaze upon. An opportunity that nobody but Harry seemed to be availing themselves of, much to Harry's bewilderment. Did they not notice this shocking exhibition of skin? Were they not captivated by the surprisingly intimate display?
Harry's eyes trailed greedily over the pale skin stretched tight around lean muscle. He catalogued the way the sun glinted off the fine, blond hairs that seemed almost invisible in the dim light of his bedroom at home. His cock throbbed as he visually traced the jagged, ropey scar that wrapped around Draco's left calf, a souvenir from an Auror raid gone wrong. He'd seen those calves a hundred times: he'd felt them tremble beneath his palms, had mapped out their curves with his lips, had experienced the strength of them wrapped around his hips. Maybe that was why Harry felt jittery with desire, because Draco's calves had always been associated with sex. They weren't something Draco showed off to other people, weren't something he showed off to Harry even, unless he was getting naked.
Yet here he was, brazenly displaying his shapely calves without a care in the world. Did he not realise how this would affect Harry, how it would drive him mad?
Draco's eyes caught Harry's from across the yard. He looked momentarily startled by what must have been a look of pure, unadulterated hunger on Harry's face, before his eyes glinted mischievously, and his mouth slipped into a knowing smile. Draco turned back towards Hermione, while Harry tried to puzzle out what, exactly, had just happened. And then Draco's foot lifted innocently up off the ground, the toe of his right shoe hooking behind his left calf and rubbing slowly up and down his leg.
That bastard. That complete and utter prick! He was doing it on purpose, trying to rile Harry up with his indecent calves right in the middle of the Weasleys’ summer party!
Unfortunately, the knowledge that Harry was being played did nothing to stifle his arousal. He glowered at Draco, before deciding that enough was enough. If Draco wanted to work Harry into a state of near mindless want, then he could damn well deal with the consequences.
"Excuse me, Hermione, just need a quick word with Draco." Harry smiled toothily as he gripped Draco by the arm. He looked around wildly for a moment before his gaze settled on the broomshed at the far end of the property. Perfect.
"Now, now, Harry," Draco murmured. "Where are you taking me in such a rush? I thought the whole point of bringing me to this gathering was so that I could socialize with your family."
"Shut it, Draco. Don't think I don't know what you've been doing."
Harry unlocked the door to the broomshed and pushed Draco inside before shutting the door behind them. The room was dark, but there was just enough light streaming in the from the gaps between the wooden slats for them to see by. Draco opened his mouth, but Harry didn't let him speak. Instead, he pushed Draco back up against the door and kissed him.
"Someone's eager," Draco chuckled against his mouth as Harry pressed frantic, desperate kisses along his jaw and throat. He pressed himself all along Draco's front, and was pleased to note Draco's hardness rubbing against his own.
"God, I think I'm losing my mind. You and your sexy fucking calves, driving me crazy."
"My calves? I didn't realise you were so taken with them." Draco smiled innocently at Harry, his eyes big in faux surprise.
"The fuck you didn't. I saw you smirking, taunting me." Harry dropped to his knees, circling his fingers around Draco's ankles and sliding them up the backs of his calves. "Besides, you know I'm taken with all of you."
Draco's breath caught and his hips jerked at Harry's words. Harry's hands slid up to the waistband of his cargo shorts, quickly undoing the flies. He pulled them down just enough to free Draco's erection, the warm, salty smell of him filling Harry's nostrils. He tilted his head up to look Draco straight in the eyes.
"I want you to fuck my mouth. Want to hold on to your calves while you fuck my throat with your cock."
Draco's gaze was hungry as he slid a hand through Harry's hair and gripped his cock with the other. "You've got quite the filthy mouth, Harry."
"I think you can make it filthier."
"Fuck." Draco rubbed the leaking head of his prick against Harry's lips, coating them with the bitter fluid, before finally feeding his cock into Harry's open mouth.
Harry moaned at the thick weight of it on his tongue, at the perfectly full stretch of his jaw as he took Draco inside. Draco kept pressing forward, sliding right down Harry's throat until he was all the way in. He held himself there for several long seconds, until Harry was floating, gripping tight onto Draco's calves to keep him anchored.
Draco pulled out before it became too much, giving Harry a chance to breath before sliding back in and starting up a fast, rough rhythm. Both hands wound themselves through the strands of Harry's hair, moving and guiding his head over Draco's prick in time to his thrusts. Harry lost himself in the pleasure of being taken, his eyes never leaving Draco's as his thumb traced the twisted knot of scar tissue on Draco's calf. His own cock was rock hard in his trousers, but he didn't make a move to touch himself. He had plans for that later.
It wasn't long before Draco's hips picked up their pace, losing their easy rhythm as Draco chased his release. Moments later, he was thrusting in hard, and holding himself there as he came down Harry's throat. Slowly, Draco eased out of Harry's mouth. Harry's jaw was pleasantly sore, and he could still feel the phantom press of Draco's cock on his tongue.
Harry helped tuck Draco back in, before hobbling to his feet. Draco kissed him, his hand slipping down to cup Harry's still-hard prick.
"Let me help you with that."
Harry stepped back. "Nope, I'm saving it."
"Saving it? For what?"
"For after. Because once we leave this party, I'm taking you home."
"Are you now? And whatever will we be doing once we're at your place?"
"You're going to throw these unnaturally sexy calves of yours over my shoulders, and I'm going to fuck you through the mattress."
Draco's eyes darkened with arousal as Harry opened the door to the shed. "I'm beginning to think you might have an unhealthy fixation with my calves, Harry."
Harry pulled Draco back towards the crowd of Weasleys. "Are you complaining?"
Draco grinned. "You know, I think I'm rather okay with it."