Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Due to a psychopath on the loose, Draco gets another chance to contemplate Harry Potter's Gryffindor nature, and concludes that Potter needs some saving as well. DMHP. Oneshot.
Note: This is rated M for sexual content. It's not explicit, of course, but the rating is deserved. Also, there is a moment of violence and some vague reference to nasty things, but mostly, this is fluff.
Losing Control (but Still Fighting)
Draco accepted a glass of elf-made wine and flashed a smile at the pretty girl that carried the tray around. She blushed and left quickly, and if Draco had no manners, he would snort into his drink. Really, one would think that they would be dissuaded after he had come out, so to speak, but there they were, still hoping that he would suddenly change his mind and announce that it was all a huge mix-up and he wasn't really gay.
He scanned the hall and sighed. Why was he here again? Something possessed him and made him forget that he hated this type of gatherings — he was so bored he could fall asleep. Or get drunk. But that always ended badly, with a stranger in his bed and presumably a wild night of sex that he couldn't remember.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied Potter on the opposite side of the hall. Potter smiled and mingled without pause, and Draco's irritation would reach new heights at the thought of Potter having fun while Draco was bored to death, but fortunately, Potter looked like he might collapse every second, so Draco felt a little better.
Honestly, he couldn't comprehend why Potter was here instead of at home, sleeping. He had dark circles under his weary eyes and looked like he hadn't eaten for days. Someone should grab the bastard and drag him to bed.
Draco frowned. That thought was badly formed, he reflected.
He lost sight of Potter and he craned his neck, trying to find the dark mop of hair he could recognize in the dark, but suddenly there was a loud bang, and people screamed in panic. As though they had morphed into a single entity, everybody started running — towards him, Draco realized in horror. Vaguely, he remembered that he was near the exit.
Curiosity won over his worry and he moved in the opposite direction of everybody else, wanting to find out what happened. That was soon discovered as a vain attempt as people panicked and clustered around him, apparently not able to get out due to the locked door.
"SILENCE!" someone roared, and everyone obeyed without thinking. The entire assembly froze on the spot, and Draco finally found a place with an unobstructed view and was able to see the source of the commotion. Unsurprisingly, it was Potter.
Potter managed to out shout the entire hall, apparently, without the use of a Sonorous charm. He stood rigidly beside a fallen body of a girl (the pretty waitress, Draco realized) and glared at the hall in general.
"Everybody stay where you are. No one can leave. No one can move. No one can make a sound. There is no reason to worry, just do as I say," Potter spoke in a much quieter voice, though everybody certainly heard him. "There are quite a few Aurors here tonight, we'll make sure that no one gets hurt, just please don't panic." Potter managed to sound calm and soothing as well as threatening at the same time. He turned around, and whispered something to the few people that lingered beside him. Obviously, they were Aurors and after they had received their orders, they scattered away. Potter addressed the crowd again. "Auror Johnson," he indicated a ridiculously tall, buffed up man, "will stay here for your safety." With that, he turned away and disappeared from Draco's view.
"Why didn't he stay here for our safety?" a hysteric voice said beside Draco. A couple of people voiced their agreement and Draco almost joined them.
Draco gulped nervously. He did have an inkling of what was going on, and he imagined that the other guests suspected it as well. Potter's last case was a very high profile one; there wasn't a day without reports of Potter's every move on the front page. Well, all right, that was true for the last few years, but this time Draco was actually interested. A month ago, two distinguished wizards were kidnapped, tortured for days, brutally violated and in the end, murdered. Potter stopped the third attempt, but whoever attacked Zacharias Smith, ran away and disappeared since. That was two weeks ago, and people, including Draco, were living in fear. The fact that both victims were blond, made Draco panic slightly. Wasn't Smith blondish as well?
And why did Draco left his house anyway? It seemed so safe to come here, he knew that there would be Aurors around, and he knew that Potter would be here as well, honestly, what kind of an idiot would dare to attack in the face of such heavy protection?
Draco was starting to feel nauseous, and when the unconscious girl, now at the huge Auror's feet, groaned and to everyone's shock, transformed into a tall, ghastly-looking man, Draco felt like he would vomit. Merlin, he flirted with her, and she was one of them. Didn't Potter say in an article that there were more? He just couldn't remember, but obviously, the man on the floor was bound and therefore one of the attackers and there were others around since Potter and a team of Aurors were chasing them. But what if they got away or, even worse, what if they were right here? Draco looked around nervously — an old wizard, a young woman, and a middle-aged couple were near him — it could be any of them. If they would decide to attack someone, they would come after Draco — he just knew it. That old wizard had been eyeing him from the very moment he entered the room.
Draco knew he was panicking, but he couldn't help himself. He stepped backwards, away from the mass of people, hoping to melt away so no one would see him, and catch some air because he had some trouble breathing, but suddenly there was no air at all, as a huge hand covered his mouth and nose, and another pressed his waist painfully, pulling him back.
Draco tried to scream, but he couldn't do anything, especially something constructive like reach for his wand, as a sudden lethargy passed over him, and horrified, he realized that he was cursed. The world was blurry and dizzy, as someone strong carried Draco into an adjoining room that had no business being there.
Someone was screaming and he could see the huge Auror running towards him, as the door slammed in front of Draco's eyes. After the entire room was lit up with various locking charms, cast by Draco's kidnapper, all the noise stopped.
One breathless moment later, Draco was thrown back, and he flew through the air, hitting his head on something hard. Pain exploded in the back of his head and he gasped, looking up at his attacker. He had no idea who it was, but he was strong and mean-looking, in Draco's opinion.
He tried to tell him to piss off but couldn't form a sentence. The man leered at Draco, coming closer and bending down to loom over him. Draco could hear banging on the door, but the man didn't seem worried, and Draco's fear intensified, if possible.
He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry. Would he really die now? It just wasn't fair. Potter was here with a dozen of Aurors. Maybe they just didn't care; maybe they would get here only after Draco was dead. Maybe it was all just a Ministry plan to get rid of ... well, blonds.
There was a sudden weight on his chest, impeding his breathing and Draco realized that the mean bastard sat on him.
Something cold and sharp was pressed on his throat and Draco stopped breathing altogether. This was it — he would now die. Oh, Merlin, let it be quick.
"Isn't this nice? I get to kill you right in front of Potter's nose. Oh, poor thing, I bet he'll be upset ..." the man mused, and Draco shivered, but managed to murmur, hating his whimpering voice, "I don't think so."
There was a sudden movement and pain exploded in his right cheek. "Shut up," the man screamed. "I wanted to have my fun with you for a long time. Guess I won't be getting that ... Or perhaps, I could get something." The knife moved from its place on Draco's neck, towards his face, lingering in front of Draco's eye. "So pretty, aren't you ...?"
Draco collected all of his willpower and refused to beg. He wouldn't die like that — he wouldn't! "Please ..." It came out of his mouth and he just couldn't stop it.
The man look delighted. "That's right, sing for me ..."
The knife moved, nearly touching his eyelid, but suddenly it was wrenched away, flying over the room, as a foot connected with the man's jaw, sending him flying backwards after the knife, allowing Draco to finally draw a proper breath.
There was a loud noise, and then someone yelled, "Stupefy!"
Draco hardly allowed himself to hope. Did this mean that he wouldn't die? He kept his eyes closed, afraid to open them, even as he felt strength return to his limbs, which meant that someone lifted the curse previously cast on him.
"Malfoy?" a soft voice said tentatively, and Draco opened his eyes to see concerned green-eyes staring at him.
If he would kiss Potter now, would anyone believe him that it was a result of a concussion? He lifted his head to test that theory, but sudden sharp pain forced him back down.
"My head ..." Draco complained, belatedly realizing that he probably sounded childish.
Potter's hand came to touch Draco's head, moving beneath it, in search for injuries. It touched the sore spot, making Draco wince, and Potter said soothingly, "It's just a bump. You'll be all right." It was hard to miss the relief in Potter's voice. Probably, worried about his reputation, Draco sniffed inwardly. But he couldn't get mad, because Potter's fingers brushed away Draco's hair from his face and Potter murmured, "Can you stand?"
Bloody Potter, he was perfect in this saving business.
"Of course," Draco said automatically, and then he was hauled upwards, ending up with Potter's hand gripping him firmly around his waist. Potter tried to move away, and Draco panicked. "I'm so dizzy," he whined.
Potter's hand remained where it was. Draco tried and failed to feel guilty.
He realized that there were other people in the room, and everybody was talking a lot. There was something about how one got away and how the man that attacked Draco was some big shot in the Ministry, but Draco was having some trouble listening.
It was a silly thought, he was aware, but if he would lean just a little, he could bite Potter's ear. Not that he wanted to bite Potter's ears, but he could — it was right there. And also, there was this one little black curl that wrapped itself around Potter's earlobe, and it just had to tickle him. Really, if Draco would just move it away, using his tongue, of course, he would be doing him a favour.
And, damn, why did the git smell so nice? There was a touch of some pine-scented shampoo and also ... the sent of maleness, and Draco's mouth watered.
"All right, I'll get a team and we'll chase him down," Potter's voice broke through Draco's thoughts.
"What?" Draco said suddenly. "You can't go!"
Potter's head turned, and green eyes blinked at him in surprise. Merlin, Potter had the longest, thickest, eyelashes Draco had ever seen. Were they charmed?
"Malfoy," Potter said, somehow managing to sound both amused and worried. "Are you all right?" Potter's arm and his warmth were cruelly removed from Draco's proximity. "Can you stand?" Potter asked after he already left Draco to his own devices.
"Obviously," Draco growled, annoyed.
"Potter, you can't go. Look at you! You should be in bed!"
It took Draco a few moments to realize that he didn't say that. The lovely words came from a tall, grey-haired man, who was glaring at Potter.
"Sir," Potter complained, "this is my case."
"I understand that, Potter, but you are no good to us like this," the man argued.
"I just did half of the work here!" Potter yelled indignantly.
"You did, but now you need to rest." Potter fumed and the man said soothingly, "We'll call you when we'll be ready to move out." Potter was still glaring, and the man added. "Go home, take this guy with you," he pointed a finger at Draco, "and ... protect him, all right?"
Draco had a sudden urge to kiss that man silly. He had amazing ideas. Get to bed, Potter. Take Draco with you, Potter. Honestly, the man was a genius.
Potter huffed angrily and levelled a glare at Draco as though this was somehow his fault. Draco quickly schooled his features in, he hoped, a distraught, scared expression. Well, all right, it wasn't that hard to pretend that he was scared. If one of the psychopaths was still out there, he wouldn't mind staying close to Potter. Well, if one of the psychopaths wasn't still out there he still wouldn't mind staying close to Potter, but that was beside the point.
Potter's expression softened and he sighed, grabbing Draco's hand. "Fine, just ... call me when you question them?"
"I will," Draco's new favourite person on the world said and after a few dizzy, disoriented moments Draco was standing in, presumably, Potter's apartment.
Potter released Draco's hand quickly, but then he gave him a worried look, and asked, "Want me to heal that for you?"
Draco almost said no, not really eager to have someone untrained healing him, but Potter's hand was on his jaw, and it was warm and gentle, and Draco just wasn't able to form words.
The pain in his cheek disappeared, and then Potter moved his fingers in Draco's hair, and for one wild, glorious moment Draco thought that Potter was caressing him, but then his hand found a sore spot on the back of his head and that was also healed in matter of seconds.
"Thanks," Draco said, and Potter's eyebrows shot up.
"You're welcome," he said, smiling. Then he rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Look, I can't play host now. There's a spare room there," he indicated with his hand, "and here's the couch. Just sleep where you want. Maybe there's food around. I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed." He waited for Draco to nod his head and then moved towards the door next to the spare room. He gave him a last look before he closed the door. "Don't worry, you're safe here."
For some reason Draco believed him.
After a while, Draco managed to find some spare clothes in an odd contraption, in which all the clothes were warm and clean smelling. He took a green shirt and a pair of soft, strange pants that seemed comfortable enough to sleep in. Obviously, they were muggle clothes, but they were also Potter's clothes, and though Draco really hated himself a little for it, wearing Potter's clothes made him feel a little more safer.
He took a shower in the bathroom adjoined to the guestroom, and then spent a solid half an hour not thinking about what happened.
He went to Potter's room, realizing that he did so only after he spotted a Potter shaped lump beneath the covers. Potter wasn't making any sounds, and Draco felt compelled to come closer to see if he was alive. Of course, Potter was facing the wrong direction and in order to check on Potter properly, Draco had to climb on the huge bed, snuggling beneath the covers, coming as close to Potter as he dared. And he dared to come very close, almost touching Potter's nose with his. He still couldn't hear him breathe, but his chest was moving barely perceptible, and Draco was reassured that Potter was indeed alive and did not die of exhaustion.
It was too entertaining to watch Potter sleep, and Draco was vaguely worried for his mental health. After all, it was just Potter, and he was completely still, not doing anything amusing. But this was a chance to see him up close, and Draco tried hard to remember every part of Potter's face — the long eyelashes and full lips, the strong jaw and high cheekbones. He didn't look very much like the person back at the ball, with that fiery gaze and commanding voice that made everyone stay still. He looked younger like this, and somehow smaller, buried under the blankets.
Draco sighed and reluctantly closed his eyes. Fortunately, there were no images of demented men trying to kill him in his head, just green, worried eyes.
Drifting off to sleep, Draco thought that maybe he was crushing on Potter just a bit.
Draco was attacked with a plethora of feelings in the morning. First, there was fear, of what, he wasn't sure, then there was bewilderment, after realizing that he wasn't at home, then there was panic, after he remembered what happened yesterday, and then there was even more panic, after he realized that yesterday evening he snuggled into Potter's bed for reasons he couldn't decipher (or wanted to face). And impossibly, after that, he felt even more panicked, upon noticing that Potter wasn't beside him, but had probably left him alone.
He scrambled out of the bed in the undignified way the he didn't employ since he was six and practically ran out of the room.
He froze, shocked to see Potter at the dining table, reading something, and sipping juice, a smell of — mmm, pancakes — all around him.
"Good morning," Potter greeted him politely, even sparing him a small smile.
"Yeah," Draco managed. Potter continued to read his papers, seemingly unperturbed with Draco's presence. "I borrowed your clothes," Draco blurted out, swallowing the rest of the sentence that sounded something like, I've also snuggled you the entire night, but he imagined that Potter was aware of that.
"I've noticed," Potter said, clearly amused. "You've also borrowed my bed."
Draco stared at Potter and came closer, sitting at the table. Potter didn't look angry, and that was actually odd. If Potter came to his house, put on his clothes and snuggled in his bed, why, Draco would be ... Okay, that wasn't a good example.
"You're not upset?" Draco asked, though he wasn't really just talking about the getting in the bed part, but about all of the things that happened between them in the past, which made the getting in the bed part even more bizarre. He hadn't talked to Potter for a long time, or rather, he hadn't insulted Potter for a long time, but surely, there should be more animosity and less smiling between them. And no pancakes.
Potter looked at him and appeared as though he was actually thinking about the question seriously. Draco wondered if somehow Potter saw his thoughts.
"No," Potter said finally. "Have some breakfast," he added, looking down at the papers in front of him.
Draco let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and he felt suddenly light-headed, but also starved, so he helped himself to a plate full of pancakes. He noticed that Potter still looked dreadfully tired and he wondered when he got up. Judging by the stack of pancakes and the smell of coffee as well as the bundle of papers clearly placed on the already-read pile, he was up for a while.
After a couple of sneaking glances, Draco concluded that Potter was reading some official reports. "So, is this over?" Draco asked, worried and aware that he couldn't stay here forever.
Potter looked at him and shook his head. "There were four of them. We got three yesterday, but one got away." Potter sighed heavily, looking miserable. "They had this whole organization going. They did this to muggles for years ... we never knew." Potter looked so distressed, that Draco couldn't help feeling upset as well. Bloody muggles — making Potter so miserable with their deaths. "We think we might know where the forth guy is. We'll go and ..."
"No! You can't go!" Draco yelled suddenly, surprising himself as well as Potter.
Potter took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. "I have to. This is my case," he said testily.
"But, it's just one guy, and there are other Aurors, and ... what about me?" If Potter left him here alone, Draco would die. He just knew it — he knew that he would be attacked yesterday, and he was. Clearly, this wasn't just panic, but actual Divination skills. Trelawney knew shit.
Potter blinked at him. "You're safe here."
"Oh, really? And what if he comes here, hoping that he'll get you?" Draco was struggling for air. Potter looked indecisive and Draco pressed on. "He could come here and kill me and you'd be out there wasting your time ..."
"All right!" Potter snapped.
Draco blinked and stared, not really believing that he managed to make Potter change his mind. "You'll stay?" he asked quietly, trying not to sound too shocked.
Potter sighed. "Or you could go to the Ministry ..."
"He could find me there too," Draco insisted. "Maybe they're after me! And then ... and then I'd be dead and you would feel guilty for ever and ever ..."
"Fine!" Potter yelled, glaring. "Fine," he repeated more calmly. "I'll go tell them not to wait for me," he said reluctantly, and then remained at the table for another five minutes before he actually got up to do as he said.
Draco let out a relieved breath. The repeat of yesterday was too horrible to contemplate.
Potter returned quickly enough, though Draco was already finished with — a very delicious — breakfast. Potter was glaring at him, but Draco didn't mind. "Thank you," he felt compelled to say that.
Potter gave him long, searching look, and then shook his head in disbelief. "You're ... different," he said after a while.
Draco didn't feel different, but if that was what Potter wanted to believe, Draco didn't intend to stop him. "I'm older," he pointed out.
Potter cocked his head. "And wiser?"
"Are you suggesting I was unintelligent at school?" Draco asked, miffed.
Potter's lips quirked, and then he smiled properly at him, and damn, that smile sent a pleasant shiver down Draco's spine. "You did pick the losing side."
Draco spluttered. Honestly, how could Potter talk about that in such peaceful manner? How could he joke about it, throwing Draco's own words at him? That was just rude. And true.
"I'd choose differently if given a chance," Draco said quietly. "To make sure I'm on the wining side, of course," he added quickly.
Potter was still smiling. "Of course," he agreed, somewhat indulgently, and Draco felt his lips stretch in a corresponding smile.
Just a bit flustered, he stood up, taking his plate to the sink and said, "I could do the dishes." Of course, he only said that to see Potter gape at him in surprise, and Potter didn't disappoint and he stared at him in disbelief.
"You don't have to," he said, looking amused.
Draco leaned on the counter and considered his options, he should think of something to do, something fun ... or perhaps something boring would be wiser. "So ... want to play chess?" Draco asked, having heard that Potter was horrible at it. It would be nice to beat him, really.
Potter looked at him speculatively and then he stood up, coming closer. "No. I had something else in mind," he said, and Draco's breath hitched at Potter's low tone.
Draco never had the chance to wonder what Potter wanted, because suddenly Potter was kissing him. One of his hands was around Draco's waist, and the other in his hair, and Draco was too shocked to respond.
Potter moved his lips away quickly, and stared at Draco with dilated pupils. "Don't you want this? Isn't that why you're here?"
Draco could hardly think with Potter so close, pressing him to his body, and caressing his hair for the third time in two days. "I guess you're wiser too," Draco said, refusing to think about anything, but instead captured Potter's lips, kissing him forcefully, marvelling at the taste of him, and the feel of the strong hand gripping him, not unlike his attacker yesterday, but the feelings that Potter's manhandling produced were quite opposite from what he felt then.
The kiss turned bruising and rough and desperate, as Potter pushed his tongue in Draco's mouth and Draco felt just a little bit dizzy. Then Potter's hand squeezed his arse suggestively, and moved up beneath his shirt, and then down again, beneath the soft fabric of Draco's, well, Potter's pants. Potter certainly wasted no time, and warm fingers were soon caressing Draco's arse along his cleft and then teased, trying to breach him, making Draco feel dizzy with need.
Was this really happening? Was Potter even gay? Potter's hips snapped forward and Draco felt that he was rock hard, and was forced to conclude that Potter was indeed very gay.
Somehow, they reached Potter's bedroom, and by the time Draco was pushed on the bed, most of their clothes were gone. Warm chest were pressed along Draco's, and Draco moaned loudly at the feeling. This was better than he ever imagined it. Not that he imagined it. Much.
Potter trailed his lips over Draco's neck, and then bit and licked and sucked, moving downwards to tease Draco's nipples and dip his tongue in Draco's navel. By the time that Potter moved even lower, nuzzling Draco's groin and then taking his pants off to engulf Draco in the warmth of his wicked, talented mouth, Draco was moaning and whimpering pathetically.
Then Potter was gone and Draco cursed and spluttered until Potter returned with a tube of lube in his hand. Draco shivered in anticipation, watching as Potter unscrewed the tube and squeezed out a generous amount on his fingers. Soon enough, Potter's finger was where he wanted it, and Draco whimpered in need. Oh, Merlin, how he wanted this.
But ... there was something wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Draco blinked at Potter through the haze of arousal and need — Potter was stony faced and ... quiet. So incredibly quiet, just like when he was asleep. No whimpers, no moans, nothing but his actions to indicate that Potter wanted this too.
Realistically, that should have been enough ... but it wasn't.
A finger breached him and Draco almost forgot his thoughts, but he wanted Potter to respond, to moan and beg. Why the fuck was Potter so quiet? Draco could only hear himself and it was starting to grate.
He reached down and took Potter's hand, and stopped his actions.
Potter frowned. "What?" he asked, staring at Draco.
"I want ... I want to be inside you," Draco gasped out.
Potter stopped his movements, and pulled his hand away. "No," he said firmly.
Draco slowly came to his sense, and then gathering his strength, he sat up. "Why not?" he asked reasonably.
Potter looked upset, his teeth were clenched firmly together, and he glared at Draco defiantly. "I just don't like that. It's a preference."
Draco pursed his lips. "Mmm." He leaned in to kiss Potter, but Potter moved away. "Fine," Draco said soothingly. "Let me do something else then."
Still looking suspicious, Potter nodded jerkily.
Draco leaned in and this time Potter let himself be kissed, though he barely responded. Draco urged him to lie down, and after a bit of pushing and a short struggle, Potter relented.
Draco wasted no time and he reached down and stroked Potter firmly, enjoying in the feel of warm flesh in his hand. Potter was breathing shallowly and his breath hitched a little when Draco took him in his mouth. Draco used his throat and tongue to extract sounds from Potter's mouth, but none were forthcoming. Annoyed, he moved his head lower, determined to drive Potter crazy. Potter's thighs shivered and, encouraged, Draco moved even lower, his tongue doing wicked things to Potter's body, but Potter stiffened and he growled and grabbed Draco by the hair, pulling him away.
Draco sighed exasperatedly as Potter sat up and glared at him. "This was a mistake," Potter proclaimed.
Draco really wanted to slap himself. There he was, about the have the very thing that he wanted and he ruined it. What on earth was wrong with him?
Potter moved to stand up and Draco pounced at him, fuelled by sheer panic. "Potter, wait!" Potter's movements were somewhat restricted after Draco straddled his lap, but Draco was aware that he could throw him off at any point. "Look, if you had some bad experience, I can assure you, I'm an exper .."
"It's not that!" Potter growled.
"Then what? Don't tell me you've never bottomed," Draco said disbelievingly. Potter was silent. "Oh." Draco felt a small thrill run through him. "Scared, are you?" He smirked at him.
Potter glared, looking truly angry, and that was ever so slightly worrying, but at the same time extremely hot. "It just doesn't appeal to me," Potter said in a low, dangerous tone, which only aroused Draco further.
Now this was a challenge, and Draco intended to win. "Come on, Potter. You have to try it once before you decide," Draco coaxed. He brought his lips to Potter's neck, kissing gently and then moving upwards to nibble on his earlobe. "Let me take care of you, Potter." Potter shivered. Aha! Draco thought in triumph. "Just lie down and let go, and let me take care of you. You want it, I know you do," Draco purred, sucking the sweet spot on Potter's neck. "You want me to fuck you until you can't see straight. You want to be beneath me, helpless and trapped, while I pound in you so hard that you'll feel me inside for a week." Potter's breathing sped up, and he let out a small quiet whimper. "Just for a little while, you want to let go and be my bitch."
Potter shoved him suddenly, and Draco ended up on the floor, sprawled on his back. Okay, so maybe the bitch thing was too much. Draco arranged his pose on the floor, trying to appear as though he decided to lie down there himself. Potter looked like he didn't know whether to beat Draco silly or run away, and Draco didn't feel sorry, because he was now sure that he was right — Potter was yearning to get fucked. "Reciprocity, Potter. I can be your bitch later."
Amazingly, that promise worked. Potter stared at him for a long time, wide-eyed but clearly aroused — scared but wanting, and Merlin, in that moment he was truly beautiful.
"Okay," Potter said quietly, still looking unsure.
Draco bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something stupid, not wanting to scare Potter away again, and picked himself up from the floor, getting back on the bed. "Lie down," he instructed, trying hard to make it sound like a suggestion.
Potter let out a breath, steeling himself as though he was getting ready for a battle, and lay down, spreading his legs to let Draco come between them. Draco was suddenly gripped with some emotion, which he never knew he possessed, and as he took the lube, squeezing out some on his fingers, his hands were shaking. Potter was abusing his bottom lip, still quiet and waiting.
Draco bent down and kissed Potter, not trying to be gentle, but instead kissing him with all the force and passion he could muster, and in that moment, that was quite a lot. Potter moaned — finally — and gripped Draco's shoulders, sucking the tongue that invaded his mouth.
Not breaking the kiss, Draco moved his hand lower, to trail his fingers along Potter's cleft, teasing him. Potter was hardly relaxed and it took a lot of coaxing for him to allow things to progress from there.
Draco lifted up to stare down at Potter, mentally urging him to make a sound. Only when he reached a certain spot within him, did Potter breathe out a small Oh! and actually moaned, not moving his gaze from Draco's and that was the sexiest thing that Draco ever witnessed.
Draco took his time, waiting until Potter was panting heavily and reacting to each movement of Draco's hand. When Draco moved away, Potter looked like he might complain, but then he changed his mind, and he frowned worriedly as Draco made him lift his legs higher.
Draco was sure that he lost some brain cells during this time, because his brain wasn't really working properly. He should have eased Potter's worries or something, but all that he could think about ws being inside Potter.
Potter took a deep breath when Draco pressed inside him, and he was relaxed enough to let Draco in, though he clenched impossibly tight around him, making Draco cry out, unsure whether the feeling was painful or pleasant. He settled on mind-blowingly fantastic.
He lay down, bending Potter double, a move for which he was rewarded with a loud choking gasp.
"Oh, Potter, you were made for this," Draco panted mindlessly, regretting his words when Potter glared at him, looking insulted. Draco kissed him quickly, and gasped out, "You can do and say every filthy thing that comes to your mind later, I promise."
Potter shivered and then said through gritted teeth, "You might regret that promise."
Draco seriously doubted that.
"Move," Potter snapped suddenly, and Draco concluded that he wouldn't get any begging from Potter, so he pulled out and slammed in, forgetting to be slow and gentle. Potter gasped and whimpered, and Draco forgot everything that had anything to do with slow, but instead set a fast pace, every hard thrust earning him beautiful gasping sounds and occasional cry of more! from Potter's mouth. Draco's hands were placed on either side of Potter's head, and he wanted to move them and help Potter find completion, but he couldn't lose the support of his arms, because damn it, Potter was impossibly tight and Draco felt like his whole body was needed to conquer him, to own him.
Draco couldn't tear his gaze from Potter's face. Potter seemed equally mesmerized, looking trapped and helpless but at the same time amazed. Green eyes were open wide, but soon they rolled back, and Potter groaned loudly, exposing his long, pale throat to Draco, clenching around Draco, and Merlin, that was just too much. Draco saw stars as his whole body went rigid with pleasure.
He collapsed on Potter, barely conscious, but then Potter grunted and pushed him. Draco pulled out, rolling to lie on his back as Potter stretched his legs with a relieved sigh.
After a while, Potter said weakly, "I think you were right about me feeling this for a week."
"I am amazing, aren't I?" Draco asked vainly, trying to smirk, but his facial muscles weren't really working. Or any of his muscles, really.
Potter laughed breathlessly, but Draco noted that he didn't deny it.
"I ..." Potter looked at him, his eyes sparkling at Draco in a way the he didn't see for a long time. And, well, he was usually looking. "I needed that," Potter said quietly.
"Any time, Potter," Draco blurted out without thinking and he would have winced had he had the energy to do so.
But Potter gave him a long look and then smiled tentatively. "You keep making promises to me. What would happen if I were to collect them all?"
This was a time for a snappy funny retort, but instead Draco heard himself say, "You'd find out that I actually keep my promises."
Potter licked his lips and scooted closer. "Give me an ... hour. I liked that you-could-do-any-filthy-thing-you-want-to-me bit."
Draco gulped and shivered — he liked that bit too.
Draco waited longer then and hour in the end, because Potter was called in, to do Merlin knew what, but he returned in time to re-supply Draco with food as he told him everything that happened with the case. All the bad guys were caught, including a couple of muggles, deemed as accomplices. They were handed over to the muggle authorities, and Draco was told a lot more information than he wished to know about the whole organization, but Potter looked like he wanted to share some horrid parts of the story, so Draco steeled himself and listened, ridiculously pleased that Potter wanted to share this with him.
After Draco was fed properly, he was rushed into the bedroom where Potter tied him up to the bed and fucked him silly. And that was no figure of speech because Draco's mind had to have leaked out through his cock, or otherwise he couldn't explain his sudden wish to snuggle close to Potter and lead a spectacularly inane conversation with him, composed entirely of strange insults. Silly conversation or not, it was still productive, because they have concluded that someone could still theoretically threaten Draco's life, so he should stick around indefinitely.
"Thank you," Draco murmured, thinking that Potter was asleep.
Green eyes snapped open. "For what?"
Draco swallowed. "For saving my life. Again."
"You are very welcome," Potter said seriously, his fingers entwined in Draco's hair. "Though, you know, right now, I'm the one that feels saved."
Draco bit his lip, trying not to smile. Honestly, Potter was such a sap. "Yeah, well, my mad shagging skills do that to a person. It's just talent," Draco assured Potter in the same serious tone.
Potter laughed, looking happy and relaxed and Draco had no choice but to believe in his own words.
"Though, I'm warning you, Potter. Talent needs to be honed continuously, lest it gets rusty."
"Hone all you want." Potter smiled, pulling him for a kiss.