wicked smut goddess (gracerene) wrote,
wicked smut goddess

For birdsofshore: First Time for Everything (Draco/Harry, NC-17)

Some backstory: I've been wanting to write an in-depth first time fic for awhile now. And then dicta_contrion wrote me the most perfect first time fic that has ever existed, and the idea got put on the backburner. Skip forward a year and a half, and while perusing birdsofshore's likes/dislikes ideas for gift!fic reasons, the desire to write the first time fic came back full force. I wibbled a little (because, seriously, dicta's fic is everything one could want) before deciding fuck, it, I want to write this. Is there such a thing as too many first time fics? The answer is absolutely not. :D

Title: First Time for Everything
Author: gracerene
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, background Blaise/Padma & Ron/Hermione, mention of past Draco/OMC and Harry/OMCs
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~7,300
Content/Warnings: established relationship, first time bottoming, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom!harry, heavily implied switching
Summary: Harry's ready to try something new.
Notes: Dear birdsofshore! Loveliest and most talented of humans! I offer this most humble gift in gratitude for the countless hours of smutty delight you have provided me and fandom alike. You are such a delight, such a genuine, sweet, caring, and enthusiastic person, and sharing a fandom (and kinks! So many kinks!) with you is the actual best. I really hope you enjoy, lovely, and I hope you have the most magnificent birthday! (Also, can I just say how excited I am for your birthday for completely selfish reasons, because OMG I already have like 5 tabs of fic and art open, and since we are kink sisters, I am probably going to be seriously into all of it!!)

Thanks to capitu and oceaxe for being awesome and looking this over for me! <3

Read on AO3

"I had fun tonight," Harry called out as he climbed into Draco's bed. The sheets were smooth and cool against his bare legs and chest.

"Me too," Draco replied. He was in the bathroom, working through his obnoxiously long before-bed routine. Draco's countertop looked like the inside of a salon, and Harry was convinced his various creams and potions were half the reason they usually spent the night at Draco's instead of Grimmauld Place, even though Harry lived alone. Harry had to admit though, whatever Draco did at night, it was certainly working. He had the best hair and skin of anybody Harry knew, and that was including the girls.

"Blaise said something interesting," Harry said, as casually as he could. His heart sped up as he finally broached the topic that had been niggling at him since dinner.

"What was that?" Draco asked absently, moving back into the bedroom. Like Harry, he was wearing only a pair of pants; though unlike Harry, they were undoubtedly expensive, made of rich, green silk that Harry knew from experience felt like heaven against the skin. He shook away his distraction.

"Blaise. He said something interesting at dinner."

Draco laughed. "That's probably the first time anybody's ever said that." Blaise worked in finance and had the unfortunate habit of talking about his work in great detail to anybody who sat still long enough for a conversation. Blaise seemed to think everybody was as interested in the galleon to pound exchange rate as he was. He was wrong.

Draco and Blaise had been living together for the past four years (if you could call sharing a gargantuan multi-level flat "living together"), and despite his tendency towards long-winded stories, Blaise was a decent enough bloke. He'd just begun dating Pavarti, and the four of them had gone on a double date earlier that night. Harry tried not to think about it too hard, or the surrealness of the four of them out for a night on the town together would have exploded his brain. Who would've thought things could change so much just five years after the war? But that was beside the point. Harry needed to focus.

"Yeah, when he was talking about you and your ex, Peter. How Blaise kept walking in on you fucking him over the sofa."

Draco grimaced. "Yeah, Peter had a thing for almost getting caught. Or actually getting caught." He paused, nose wrinkled. "Come to think of it, he might have had a thing for my sofa as well. He was bloody obsessed with fucking on it."

Harry couldn't help but picture it, picture Draco fucking his ex over that big grey sofa, and he felt his skin heat. Draco saw his reaction and misunderstood. He sat next to Harry on the mattress and said earnestly, "You know there's nothing between Peter and I now, right Harry? I haven't even spoken to him in over a year. I don't want anybody but you."

Harry nodded. He did know that. He wasn't jealous thinking about Draco with some other bloke. It was all the in the past, and it wasn't as if Harry hadn't been with his share of men. What Harry was...was curious. "I know that. I just didn't know you topped."

Draco blinked at him, apparently taken off guard. Harry didn't know why he'd be surprised. They'd been together for nearly a year now, serious for almost as long, and not once had Draco ever fucked him.

"Yes," Draco said carefully, "I consider myself versatile, and I enjoy both...giving and receiving. But you know how much I love it when you fuck me, Harry. I'm certainly not unsatisfied if that's what you're worried about."

"Is that why you've never asked to fuck me?" Just saying the words out loud sent a shiver skittering across Harry's skin.

Draco looked at him in mild confusion. "No...I've never asked to fuck you because when we first started having sex, you told me you didn't bottom." Draco shrugged. "I didn't want to pressure you into doing something you wouldn't enjoy, and considering how much I enjoy having your cock up my arse, it all seemed to work out fine."

Harry swallowed thickly, his mouth feeling suddenly dry as he scratched out, "I said that I haven't bottomed, not that I don't." Though even as he said it, he knew that wasn't the entire truth. That may have been what he'd said, but the implication that he didn't want to had been there for Draco to grab hold of. Draco had made an assumption, and Harry had been content to let him make it at the time. He'd wanted to fuck Draco so badly, and he figured they could reevaluate other activities down the line when Draco brought it up again. But Draco never had, and Harry was tired of waiting.

"You mean—never?" Draco asked, eyes wide with blatant disbelief. Harry's face felt like it was on fire as he shook his head. "But you've had boyfriends. Several of them, in fact. I'd just assumed you'd tried it with one of them and it wasn't your thing." He paused, still staring at Harry in mystified wonder. "You're really telling me nobody's ever…"

Harry shook his head again. "They all assumed I'd top, and it...I guess it became a thing."

At first, it had been a relief. Harry was so new to it all, to sex and desire, to touching and being touched. He hadn't been sure he wanted…that, and he'd been grateful that none of the men he hooked up with seemed to expect it. He'd grown more confident, more comfortable. Harry liked giving his partners pleasure, making them feel good, and he'd been more than satisfied with what was on offer.

When he started dating and having real relationships, he'd thought maybe it might be something he could try. It wasn't exactly at the top of his list, but it didn't seem quite as unimaginable as it had at the beginning, now that he'd seen how much some men clearly enjoyed it. Surely they weren't faking all that pleasure when Harry pressed into them, when he fucked them hard and fast, or slow and deep. But just like his one-offs, the men he dated seemed to assume that Harry would be the one doing the fucking. First Brian, then Philip. Even Marco, the burly Quidditch player that Harry had been seeing last year—before Draco's transfer to London's Auror department had turned Harry's world upside down—had never asked Harry to bend over for him. Harry had never bothered challenging the status quo.

It wasn't that Harry was scared, not exactly, but the longer he'd gone without, the bigger the act had become in his mind. It seemed to take on new meaning, something serious and profound. Just the thought of asking for it made Harry's stomach flutter and clench with something like excitement and dread. So he never had.

Until now.

Harry felt a little nauseated with nerves, but he pushed through. "You seemed to really like it when I fuck you, and obviously I really like it, too. But I've been kind of...wondering. Maybe. About what it would be like. If we, err, switched."

Draco stared at him, his expression unreadable, until Harry begin to fidget under his gaze. Draco sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and Harry watched with rapt and heart-pounding focus. "I don't want you to feel pressured," Draco murmured, eventually. "I wasn't lying when I said I'm perfectly satisfied with what we do. But Merlin help me, I would fuck you in a heartbeat." Draco's expression was no longer unreadable; it was pure heat and hunger. "I'd make it so good for you, Harry. Take you nice and slow, until you were begging me for it."

"I, uh, alright." Trepidation battled with desire in his gut. Harry wasn't sure which was stronger. "Now?"

Draco looked at him assessingly for moment. "No, not right now." Harry felt relief wash over him. He wanted it, really he did, but he wasn't sure he was ready just yet. "Why don't we do it next Friday? We can go out to that new restaurant on Diagon that Weasley was raving about last week. Make a proper date of it."

Harry smiled. Ron had taken Hermione to the fancy new sushi restaurant in Diagon Alley for their anniversary, despite serious reservations about enjoying a meal of raw fish. Hermione apparently loved sushi though, and Ron was willing to try anything for her. To Ron's surprise and delight, he had fucking loved the place, and he had not stopped talking about it since. Ron was not an easy man to impress when it came to food—anybody who grew up on Molly Weasley's cooking was bound to have high standards—so Harry had been suitably intrigued. He felt pleasantly warm inside that Draco had noticed Harry's interest. Draco was always doing quietly thoughtful things like that, showing how well he knew Harry, how closely he watched him.

"Yeah, that sounds great." He smiled at Draco, hoping it didn't look as nervous as he felt. It was one thing to talk in abstracts, it was another altogether to know the exact date that Draco would be sticking his cock in Harry's arse. Harry reminded himself that he asked for it, that he wanted it. Draco would make it good for him.

Draco nodded, and then his expression turned sly and predatory as he pushed Harry back onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. "In the meantime, why don't you remind me again how much I like it when you fuck me."

Harry's laugh caught in his throat as Draco's arse ground down against his half-hard prick. He grinned.



Harry rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers, thankful that the dark fabric would hide the damp marks. He opened the door to his room, knowing that Draco was right behind him. Normally that wouldn't be enough to make his shirt collar tight and the air around him feel hot, but tonight wasn't a normal night.

For one, Draco had insisted they come back to Harry's place, instead of going over to Draco's like they usually did. Harry wondered if Draco thought Harry would be more comfortable in his own room and on his own bed—home pitch advantage. Or maybe Draco didn't want to have to worry about roommates coming in at inopportune times. Harry swallowed and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt before sitting on his bed staring at a point on the wall just behind Draco.

There was a strange tension thrumming between them, an uncertainty and awkwardness that hadn't been there since the beginning of their relationship. It was kind of exciting, not unlike that exhilarating feeling of being with somebody new for the first time. In a way, it kind of was. A dozen Snitches fluttered in Harry's stomach.

Draco took a few steps towards him and Harry instinctively shied away, every cell in his body coiled tight and ready to bolt. Draco didn't seem upset or offended.

"It's alright, Harry, just relax. I only want to kiss you, okay?" Draco's voice was soft and soothing. It eased some of the tension thrumming through Harry's muscles. He tilted his head up for a kiss.

Harry had always loved kissing, and Draco was brilliant at it. Other blokes seemed to only view it as a means to an end, and sometimes Harry understood that urgency. Usually though, nothing got Harry hotter than a long, thorough, toe-curling kiss. Draco's hands slid through Harry's hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the strands with a faint pressure that never failed to make Harry moan. He widened his knees, letting Draco step between them so he could press even closer, their tongues and lips sliding together.

Draco's hands moved lower, cupping his neck and brushing that spot behind Harry's ear that always made him shiver, before moving to his chest and quickly unbuttoning Harry's shirt. Harry helped shrug it off, all while doing his level best to suck Draco's face off.

Harry whined when Draco pulled back and Draco laughed. Harry loved it when Draco laughed. He didn't do so nearly enough in Harry's opinion, not like this, all happy and pleased and sincere. Every time he did, it made something blaze bright inside of Harry, something that whispered this is it, he's the one. It warmed Harry and scared him in equal measure, the burning conviction in that whispered thought. He ignored it for now, like he usually did, but he knew he wouldn't ignore it forever. It was comforting, knowing what waited for him, the quiet unacknowledged truth of where he and Draco were headed.

"Scoot back," Draco said as he began to undress, pulling Harry from his thoughts. "And take off your trousers."

Harry did as requested, laying back against the mountain of pillows that Kreacher insisted be piled on Harry's bed every morning, despite numerous conversations about Harry's prefered pillow to bed ratio. In Harry's opinion, the total volume of pillows on any given bed shouldn't actually exceed the size of the mattress. Harry thought this was perfectly reasonable, but apparently, that was far too modern a way of thinking, and Kreacher wouldn't stand for it. Harry was learning to pick his battles.

He slid off his trousers and briefly debated removing his pants as well before deciding against it. Draco had only told him to remove his trousers and he wanted to do what Draco said. The urge to be obedient thrilled and shamed him, and a red flush began to spill down his chest.

Draco, always observant, picked up on this immediately.

"Eager?" Draco asked. A smile tugged at his lips, pleased and just the tiniest bit smug. "It's okay if you are."

"I—" Harry wasn't sure if there were words to describe what he was feeling. It was somewhere between eagerness and trepidation, a sense of tentative anticipation building up behind his breastbone.

"It's alright," Draco soothed as he removed his shirt and sent it flying towards the hamper. He was naked but for his pants—black silk this time—and he crawled up onto the bed and on top of Harry with gleaming eyes. He kissed him again, and Harry melted back against the pillows as Draco licked at his lips.

Harry felt simultaneously languid and keyed up, content with the spine tingling kisses, but completely aware of where this was heading. He ran his fingers over the smooth muscles of Draco's back, his soft sides, and his surprisingly large biceps. Arousal rippled through him at the power in Draco's form, the lean lines and pale skin that hid the hard muscle needed for his job as an Auror. Harry had seen Draco in action, seen his lightening fast reflexes, his ability to break into a dead run at the drop of a hat, his precise spellwork when he duelled. It had always made Harry so hot that Draco could be so sharp and dangerous at work, and not thirty minutes later be face down on his bed begging Harry to fuck him harder. All that power and strength was as compelling as ever, but it had a different flavour to it now, now that Draco was sliding between Harry's spread legs and rocking down against him as they kissed slow and wet and deep.

Harry arched up against Draco, his legs moving up to wrap around Draco's slim waist of their own accord. The heels of his feet rested on top of Draco's plush arse, and his legs squeezed tight around Draco's torso. Draco tried to brace himself by Harry's head, but he appeared to be having trouble finding firm purchase among all the pillows. He made a disgruntled noise and pulled away from Harry's lips, glaring at the mound of pillows before grabbing several in quick succession and tossing them across the room. A laugh bubbled out of Harry at the display, and at the petulant twist of Draco's lips betraying the very real annoyance Draco felt towards the inanimate objects. It was so very like Draco, and it helped to loosen something inside of Harry that was still wound tight as a drum.

Pillows suitably dealt with, Draco grinned down at Harry, eyes fairly sparkling and causing Harry's breath to leave him in a whoosh of arousal. Draco swooped back in, resuming the mind-melting assault on Harry's lips as his hips began a delicious rocking motion. Even through their pants the friction was incredible, and Harry's dick began to plump as he met Draco's gentle thrusts.

This was good, this was nice; the way Draco's body undulated on top of him, the way Harry's own body arched up to meet him on instinct. One of Draco's hands trailed down Harry's side, up over his right thigh, before worming its way between their bodies. Draco's fingers moved lightly over Harry's fabric-covered erection before sliding lower. Even through his pants, the feeling of Draco's finger rubbing against his entrance made Harry's entire body shiver and clench, his stomach flipping right over on itself as he let out a little gasp into Draco's mouth.

Draco continued to rub and pet with that persistent finger as they kissed and rocked together, until Harry had to break away and pant, looking up at Draco with unsure eyes. He wanted to beg Draco to stop, to continue, to just do something before the anticipation killed him.

Draco gave him a quick peck on the lips and sat back between Harry's legs. He reached for the waistband of Harry's pants and Harry uncurled his legs to help. It was a little awkward trying to shimmy them off, and they got caught on one of Harry's feet. He nearly brained Draco as Draco tried to tug it free. Draco laughed, a slightly embarrassed chuckle that managed to pull a commiserating grin from Harry, despite his nerves. Between the two of them, Harry was usually the ungainly one, and it was a testament to how turned on Draco was that he was fumbling.

They grinned at each other for a minute, Harry naked on the bed, Draco kneeling between Harry's spread legs in only his pants. Harry felt like he was on the edge of some giant precipice, and his body fairly shook with anticipation of what was to come. His cock was thick and hard against his abdomen, and he couldn't help but roll his hips upwards when Draco leaned forward to kiss him again, desperate for some friction. He groaned happily when he got it, and then whimpered when the pads of Draco's dry fingers began to slide over his bum and into his crease. Once again Draco found his entrance with alarming precision, and he began his caress of Harry's rim. Compared to his earlier stroking through Harry's pants, the sensation felt magnified by a thousand-fold, little sparks like lightning singing through him as Draco rubbed and petted and prodded.

He kept at it, even as his mouth began to move lower, kissing the side of Harry's throat, sucking at his nipples until they hardened into stiff peaks, licking a line of wet fire down Harry's stomach, his chin brushing against Harry's cock. Harry was so revved up with tension and nerves and lust that he thought he would explode the second Draco put his mouth on Harry's cock. Draco seemed to realise that Harry was standing on a razor's edge because he spared only a few tantalising licks for Harry's stiff prick before moving lower still.

Draco's hands pressed against the backs of Harry's thighs, and there was a sudden disconcerting silence. Wanting to know what Draco was doing, Harry opened his eyes—when had he clenched them shut?—and looked down.

Draco was on his belly at the end of the bed, his face just inches away from Harry's exposed arse. Harry still had his legs in the air and Draco had moved in close, his hands pressing back Harry's thighs to give Draco a better view. A hot flush built in Harry's cheeks and chest, spilling out across his body as he realised Draco was staring. Draco's gaze was avid, his eyes eager and hungry, and something hot and wriggling and embarrassed took up in Harry's stomach. He squirmed a little beneath Draco's hands, and Draco's gaze shot up to Harry's burning face. A slow smile spread like liquid across Draco's face, and it made Harry feel caught, like prey in a trap. Even as he had the urge to flee, Harry realised that he liked the feeling, liked the strange sense of being mastered. He blushed harder. Draco hadn't even really done anything yet, just stared at him and looked at Harry like he wanted to eat him right up.

His eyes still locked on Harry's, Draco leaned forward and licked at Harry's crease. Harry groaned and collapsed fully back against the mattress, pulse thud-thudding at the sweet swipe of sensation. Draco chuckled against Harry's wet skin and did it again, and again. Draco's tongue was so soft and hot and wet as he licked at Harry. It was almost delicate; the gentle, slick flicks of Draco's tongue along Harry's rim, making Harry struggle to take in a breath as he was near-suffocated with sensation. When Harry did this to Draco, he usually dove right in, eating Draco out wet and hard and greedy, Draco fucking back against his tongue until he demanded Harry fuck him. That didn't seem to be Draco's style. No, instead Draco's tongue teased Harry mercilessly as it danced around Harry's rim, dipping in and around his arse with a maddeningly gentle pressure that seemed specifically designed to drive Harry out of his mind with desire.

He gulped in air, little choked off sounds escaping his throat as his hands flew down to where Draco was still pressing him open. Harry gripped Draco's wrists, his arm, needing to hold onto something so he didn't float away. He wanted to move, to writhe beneath Draco's tongue, but he didn't have any leverage in this position. There was a squeezing in his chest, something almost like panic rising up in him as the pleasure built and built, slow and steady. It was good, but gentle enough that Harry knew it would never crest, that Draco could tease him like this for hours and it still wouldn't be quite enough to make him come.

Draco's tongue grew stronger, stroking against Harry more purposefully now. He felt the pointed tip slide inside of him just past the rim, and Harry hadn't even realised he'd relaxed so much beneath Draco's ministrations. Fuck, it was incredible, so strange and wonderful, the wriggle of Draco's tongue just inside of him. Draco pulled back, sucking on his thumb for a moment before pressing it against Harry, circling the rim over and over. Harry could feel the muscle flutter beneath Draco's thumb, knew he was twitching beneath the slick digit as millions of electric nerve endings sizzled and snapped, firing little pulses of pleasure that shot out through Harry's limbs. God, was it always like this? Did Draco feel this undone every time Harry fucked him? Technically they hadn't even gotten to the fucking part yet, and Harry was seriously wondering how he'd survive.

Draco stood up, shimmying out of his pants and summoning the lube from the bedside table. Harry's gaze went straight to Draco's cock, long and hard and pointing right at Harry's arse like he'd cast a Four-Point Spell with his prick and Harry's arse was north. A wave of apprehension crashed back down over Harry as he took in Draco's cock. It wasn't monstrous or anything, but it was a good size, long and thick. It had always felt so good in Harry's hand, or in his mouth. Would it feel as good in his arse? Would it hurt?

Harry's legs began to close on instinct, wanting to protect himself from the would-be invader, but Draco stepped between, keeping him spread wide open.

"Do you still…?" Draco waved the lube towards Harry's arse. "We don't have to, if you're having second thoughts."

And the thing was, Harry knew Draco meant it. Harry could say no right then, and Draco would be content to get off some other way. He wouldn't hold it against Harry, wouldn't begrudge him anything. Knowing that, knowing that this moment was about bringing them both pleasure, Harry wanted it all the more. Harry knew that half of his fear came from the not knowing, and he'd never get over that until he tried.

"No, I mean, yes, I still want to." He spread his legs more purposefully, keeping one flat against the bed and the other bent at the knee, his foot pressed against the mattress.

Draco nodded, and then cool fingers were pressing against him, wet with lube. They massaged his rim for a moment, before one began to slowly ease inside, sliding in to the first knuckle. It was even odder than the feeling of Draco's pointed tongue, the strange press of something moving inside a place where nothing had gone in before. His body wasn't used to it, didn't know how to catalogue the sensation. It wasn't even Draco's entire finger, just the tip, but it still felt impossibly large and foreign. Harry was pleased that it didn't hurt, but it didn't feel particularly good either. Just strange.

Draco pressed further in, paused, and then slowly pulled out before sliding back in with gentle motions. Harry could feel the wetness being pressed inside of him, easing the way for Draco's finger. God, it was bizarre, knowing that a little bit of Draco was inside of him, that it wouldn't be long before Harry was taking a whole lot more of him.

A second finger began to press in next to the first, and this time it did hurt, a kind of stinging stretch in that ring of muscle as Draco eased inside. Nervous laughter fizzed in his chest, escaping his throat with a moan and a curse as he adjusted to the feeling. From between his legs, Draco grinned up at him encouragingly, keeping his movements slow and measured as he continued to work Harry open. He kissed Harry's thighs, the crease of his groin, his heavy balls, all while twisting his fingers, pumping and rotating them inside of Harry's arse.

The sting began to fade; still undeniably present, but somehow less immediate and all-encompassing. Every once in awhile Draco brushed up against Harry's prostate, and Harry would gasp and choke as need burned a bit more of his fear away. Harry let himself move back a little into the press of Draco's fingers, easing tentatively onto the questing digits. It seemed like this was the sign Draco had been waiting for.

Fingers slid out of him and while Harry was still contemplating their loss, Draco moved up the bed with his usual grace. He took Harry's mouth in a hard kiss, and it was evident that Harry wasn't the only one feeling desperate. Draco rocked down against him, hips undulating in a sinfully sinuous rhythm, as if Draco was already inside him, as if he was fucking Harry right now. It made Harry kiss back harder, made his skin break out in gooseflesh as he realised it was happening, that Draco was about to give it to him.

"I'm going to fuck you," Draco growled as his cock slid between Harry's cheeks, the heavy weight of it dragging over his entrance. Harry's heart tried to beat itself right out of his chest. He'd thought he'd heard all of Draco's lust-drenched tones, but he'd never heard him sound like this before, all grit and hunger. Draco wasn't even inside of Harry yet, but splayed out beneath Draco with Draco's cock moving against his arse, his legs clenched tight around Draco's waist...Fuck, Harry felt so open and submissive, so ready to do whatever Draco asked. It made him feel hot all over, a sort of wriggling shame burrowing through him at how badly he wanted to be good for Draco. It had his hands shaking and his pulse soaring. He knew there was nothing wrong with it, that there was nothing humiliating in letting Draco have him; but he couldn't completely shut down that little voice that said this wasn't him, that Harry Potter didn't turn to jelly at the mere promise of a cock in his arse.

Only, apparently he did.

"You ready for it?" Draco asked, and Harry could hear the legitimate question in his tone.

Another laugh burst out of him, low and breathless and filled with nerves. "Yeah, I think so."

Draco's lips lingered for one final kiss. "We can stop whenever you want, okay?" Draco whispered.

Harry nodded, and Draco knelt back on the mattress. Harry let his legs fall from Draco's waist, his knees splaying out on the bed to either side of him like a pinned butterfly. It felt like an apt comparison, seeing as how Draco was about to pin him to the mattress.

Harry watched as Draco slicked his cock and wondered if he was imagining the trembling of Draco's hands. But then Draco was rubbing the oiled head of his prick right up against Harry, and he wasn't thinking about anything at all... other than the impossible size of Draco's cock. He clenched instinctively but Draco didn't move to press inside, just massaged the tip up against Harry, warming him up until Harry began to relax. He could feel Draco pressing against him and that tight ring of muscle, almost easing inside before backing back out again in a maddening tease. Harry supposed that was probably part of the point, get Harry so worked up over the not-quite-fucking that his body stopped fighting against the promise of intrusion.

Draco tapped his prick against Harry's crease, a soft wet smack that made his cheeks jiggle. It was sort of sexy and filthy and something inside Harry went soft and pliant, his muscles going lax and languid. Draco must have felt it too, because his prick began to slowly nudge inside just then, spreading Harry open in little hitching movements.

He'd just made it past the tight ring of Harry's rim when Harry felt him halt, as if he'd hit up against a barrier. Which probably wasn't far off from the truth. The slackness in Harry's muscles from a moment before had disappeared the second Draco had began easing inside and pain had rippled through Harry's body. It wasn't the worst pain Harry had felt by half, but his body seemed dead set against allowing Draco any quarter.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Draco soothed, reaching down and guiding Harry's legs back up around his waist, probably for a better angle. "Just push back against me. Relax into it." It took a few moments, but Harry finally beat back the instinctive panic that had his body locked tight against the intrusion. He breathed deep and pushed back, letting the burn radiate through him, accepting the sting and the stretch as Draco slowly slide all the way inside.

"Oh, God," Harry groaned. "Oh, fuck." His fingers dug into the mattress, clenching the sheets tightly as he tried to adjust. His head thrashed to the side, and his breath came out in low, rasping pants, as if Draco's cock had forced all the air from Harry's lungs while it made space for itself inside of Harry's body.

Draco waited, one second, two, before he eased out just a little. He pressed back in, a slow, shallow roll of Draco's hips that Harry felt in his very core. It hurt, even that little movement burned, but it was a good kind of hurt, the suffusive ache accompanied by a sharp stab of pleasure. Draco did it again, again, slow and steady, but relentless all the same. Harry's stomach clenched and his chest seemed to expand outwards. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of feeling, throwing his head back and gasping out pleas and bitten off curses on every other thrust.

"How does it feel?" Draco gasped.

"Fuck, it feels…" Oh, how to describe how it felt? How to describe that mix of pleasure and pain that made Harry's head spin and his cock throb? "Ohh, hurts so good," he groaned, his voice deep and fucked out. Which was only right, because, God, Draco was fucking him, Draco's cock was inside of him and it felt so good, so fucking right.

He let go of the twisted sheets and slid his hands up onto Draco's thighs, digging his fingers into warm skin and flexing muscle. Harry looked up at Draco and marveled at his beauty, the sexy flush on his skin, his flashing grey eyes, that impossibly blond hair that still managed to look bloody stylish even as he fucked Harry into an incoherent mess. Harry could see the tension in his frame, could tell that he was holding himself back from fully pounding Harry through the mattress. A bone-deep shiver went through Harry at the thought of what it would be like to really take it from Draco. Someday, he thought.

Bright lights popped behind Harry's eyelids as Draco's cock slid across his prostate. "Yes! Oh, shit. Oh, fuck," Harry half yelled, half groaned. Draco only panted in response, though he managed to start hitting that spot more often than not.

Fuck, Draco was so deep inside of him, piercing Harry so completely that Harry could barely believe it. He felt dizzy and punch-drunk and completely overwhelmed, all turned upside down and inside out with sensation. Harry wasn't sure he could tell pleasure from pain anymore; they were too jumbled up with one another inside of him, as Draco continued to take him with shivery intensity.

His cock was still hard, almost painfully so, despite the fact that neither of them had touched it. It leaked precome against his stomach, twitching with each sinful thrust of Draco's hips. Harry could faintly imagine how the pleasure would intensify with a palm wrapped around his prick, but he couldn't imagine lifting even a single finger right now. Not when it felt like he needed every ounce of his concentration to keep his very being from exploding apart in a technicolor burst of molecules and atoms.

"Are you—"

"Yeah," Harry moaned. "Yeah, feels good, Draco. Feels so—fuck."

Draco leaned down to kiss him then, hot and messy. Harry kissed him back eagerly, desperately, needing the familiarity of Draco's lips against his own in the face of so much novelty. Draco groaned heavily in Harry's mouth as he braced his hands on either side of Harry's face to kiss him more completely. As he did, his rhythm began to change, his hips moving into Harry with greater purpose. Draco began to fuck him harder, and it felt instinctual, subconscious almost, as if some of Draco's iron control had finally eroded away. Harry could feel how much Draco had been holding back in the power of these new thrusts, and even as he gasped and mewled into Draco's mouth, he knew Draco wasn't fucking him anywhere near full strength.

Harry could feel each thrust so deep inside, like they were penetrating the very deepest, darkest parts of him. The heavy pain of it twisted so tightly with burning, blinding pleasure that Harry couldn't imagine one without the other. Even through the deluge of sensation, it was the feeling of being owned and claimed that made his cock throb and his heart race. There was an unexpected sense of power in offering himself up to Draco like this, in watching Draco's fevered skin and lust-crazed eyes as he took his pleasure from Harry's body. This Draco looked like he would give Harry the fucking moon if he asked for it right now, just for the privilege of feeling Harry wrapped around him. It was heady and intoxicating, and it made Harry want to give Draco anything and everything in turn.

Harry's hands moved to grip Draco's waist, his arse, the broad planes of his back beneath winged shoulder blades, his palms and fingers sliding over sweat-slick skin. He could hear moans and whimpers and grunts as he stared into Draco's captivating eyes, and he knew most of those sounds were probably coming from him, escaping his throat without conscious permission. They rocked together, harder, faster, their bodies bouncing on the mattress as they moved and gyrated.

A particularly hard thrust had Harry shouting, "Fuck," his hands flying to Draco's shoulders and gripping tight. Draco slowed, always so considerate, but Harry didn't want considerate right now, he didn't want to stop or slow down. He wanted to ride this runaway train of lust and desire until they both crashed into a glorious end.

Harry shook his head, choking out a breathless laugh. "More," he gasped, hoping Draco would take him at his word.

Draco did. He resumed his earlier pace, fucking Harry hard, deep, though Harry couldn't help but note that it wasn't as hard or fast as Harry usually fucked Draco. Even still, each thrust made Harry's mind white-out with sensation overload, and he couldn't even imagine what it would be like with more. Was this how Draco really felt every time he took Harry inside of him? How did Draco manage to function, taking it as much as he did? It felt like all Harry was at this moment was exposed nerve endings and undiluted emotion that ebbed and flowed through his body, as uncontrollable and vast as the ocean. Harry wasn't sure what would be left of him when they finished. He was half certain that the moment he came, everything that he was, everything that was built up inside of him, would could flooding out, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.

A hand was on his prick, Draco's hand, wanking Harry hard and fast and unexpected. With sudden alacrity, the orgasm Harry hadn't even realised was so close to the surface was yanked out of him by Draco's deft strokes. His cock erupted onto his chest, ropes of come shooting violently across his chest and thoat. It was almost painful in its intensity, the sudden explosion of pleasure, shooting out through his veins in a burst of fire and bliss.

Draco's hips continued pumping into him, slower and shallower now, but no less devastating as Harry shivered through the aftershocks, feeling completely wrung out. He quivered and twitched, arching away from the persistent intensity of sensation.

Draco pulled out, and the loss of him was almost as bad as the overstimulation had been. Harry's rim fluttered as he clenched down on nothing, feeling wet and open and empty. But then his gaze was pulled to Draco, now kneeling over Harry, his cock red and throbbing as he fucked into his fist with all the wild abandon and lack of restraint that he hadn't showed with Harry. Fuck, Draco was sexy; so commanding and powerful-looking. Sweat dripped down his brow and pooled in the ridges of his collarbones, and his chest expanded and contracted rapidly as he panted. He made Harry want to roll over onto his stomach, made him want to beg Draco to take him all over again. Harry's chest burned with it, hot and thick as the aching desire curled through his veins like velvet smoke. How had Harry gone so long without having Draco like this?

Draco's hand sped up until it was just a pale blur moving over his cock, and then he was coming with a vibrating sigh. Harry shuddered as the hot splash of Draco's come hit his groin and stomach, though his eyes never left Draco's face and the blinding look of ecstasy that stole over Draco's expression with his release. Draco closed his eyes as he came down from his high, little shivers wracking his body as he milked the last of the come from his cock.

When his eyes finally opened they were clear silver-grey, and the intensity in them robbed Harry of breath.

"How do you feel?" Draco murmured as his hands drew sticky, soothing circles around Harry's knees and the inside of his thighs.

"I...that was…" He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "Fuck, I don't even know what that was."

"Good, I hope," Draco said, his words underlined with a sort of nervous tension. "Did you like it?"

Harry felt an inexplicable blush warm his cheeks. "Yeah. Yeah, it was good. Really good."

Draco's grin was pleased and not a little relieved. He stood up and grabbed his wand off the dresser, cleaning them both off with a flick. Harry squirmed at the sensation of the very thorough cleaning charm.

"Is it always like that?" Harry asked, when Draco had joined him in bed, the two of them curled up under his comforter.

"What do you mean?"

"Is it always so intense? I can still...feel you inside of me, and my entire body feels all shaky. I'm honestly not sure I could stand right now without toppling right over. It's like I downed a whole bottle of muscle-relaxing potion."

"No, it's not always like that." Harry could feel the smug radiating off of Draco. "Your first time is always really intense, and you seemed particularly responsive." Draco stroked a hand down Harry's back, stopping right above the curve of his bum. Harry felt a quiver of desire quake through him. "Is it something you'd like to do again?"

That thrice damned blush again, making Harry feel like a bloody teenager instead of the relatively experienced person he'd become. A lot more experienced now. "Yeah," Harry whispered. "Not all the time. I still want to fuck you, too. But yeah, I—" Harry's throat felt thick, stomach clenching at the thought of Draco pressing inside of him again. His arse ached with the memory of it, with the pleasure that burned him up from the inside out. "I liked it."

"Don't worry, there's no way I would let you get away with never fucking me again. I don't care if you found God on my prick, I like your cock too damn much to go without. We'll just have to switch. I'm sure we can come up with a suitable arrangement."

Harry grinned. He loved when Draco got all pretentious and swotty with his speech, talking about coming up with a suitable arrangement for fucking one another silly. Merlin help him, Draco would probably create some kind of schedule. There would be a chart. Draco loved charts, especially the kind where he got to used those little star stickers—Harry should never have let Draco see Hermione's office. He couldn't help but snicker as he imagined using the coloured stars to rank their sex life, "I'm sorry, Draco, that blow job really didn't feel like gold star material, but silver isn't so bad. Maybe next time."

"What are you laughing about?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Harry said, stifling his mirth. "I think you just wore me out is all. Your prick fucked all the coherence right out of me."

"That's right," Draco agreed, a faint smile dancing across his face as his eyelids began to droop.

Harry pressed closer to him, feeling sleep begin to weigh down upon him and wanting to be tangled up in Draco when he finally dropped off.

"Thank you," Harry murmured as he began to nod off. It seemed strange to thank Draco for sex, but it hadn't just been sex. Harry couldn't imagine anybody else he would have wanted to share such an intense experience with.

Draco hummed, his chest vibrating beneath Harry's cheek.

"Anything for you, Harry."
Tags: birthdays, bottom!harry, era: post-hogwarts, established relationship, fandom: harry potter, gift!fic, kink: anal sex, kink: fingering, kink: rimming, my fanfic, no repost, pairing type: slash, pairing: draco/harry, rating: nc-17

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