Muddy Days

Draco couldn't breathe.

Currently, his normal rhythm from his lungs was being interrupted by the jumping of his diaphragm, causing his breath to be pushed out his windpipe erratically in short little bursts of muscle contractions. Meaning, he couldn't because he was laughing too hard. Oh but Merlin, Potter looked positively laughable in his current state of being covered from head to toe in wet, sloppy mud.

It had happened on accident, but it was simply brilliant. Draco's mother had gotten him tickets to the latest Quidditch match insisting he hadn't been out enough. Of course, because the universe always likes to fuck with him, his seat just happened to be next to Boy Wonder. After some bickering, fighting, and all out hexing they had to stay after the game to work out the issues of legal reprimands for the damage.

It had started to pour rain before and by the end the ground was slick and wet with fresh mud. As they were bickering on their way back to the apparation point, in a moment of sheer brilliance, Malfoy had shoved Potter into the biggest, wettest pile.

Oh that was funny sure, but what had Malfoy doubling over, clutching his sides and tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks was when Potter had tried to get up. Frist he kneeled, then stood and had his feet slip around like a bizarre tap dance and fallen over face first into the messy goo. Priceless, simply priceless.

Finally, feeling some composure returning to himself, Draco stood and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, only to buckle over and howl in laughter when he saw Potter glaring with a face covered in mud. The poor sod was trying to clean his glasses off on his muddy shirt and failing, finally just shoving them into his pocket and squinting.

"Potter," Draco managed between hysterical giggles, "If only... shit if only... you could see yourself..."

The mud-covered boy glared more fiercely, little red spots of flushed skin showing through the grime on his face. Then, he smiled. Wickedly.

Draco paused in his laughing and cocked his head wondering what was going through Potter's small Gryffindork brain when suddenly, with grace Potter really shouldn't possess, he was rising to his feet and stalking towards Draco in a predatory manner.

"Wha-- stop. What are you doing?"

Potter didn't say anything but continued forward and Draco took a nervous step back.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Draco warned, but it was too late because Potter was pouncing through the air like a cat on a mouse and Draco found himself being hugged by the muddy boy.

"Potter!" he shrieked, "you absolute cretin get off! These are expensive robes you brute!"

His words were apparently lost to the other boy who was rubbing his face into Draco's neck, using him as a fucking towel to try and wipe off as much muck as possible. Potter's arms were wrapped around, messy hands rubbing all over his back and shoulders. Draco's whole body was on fire, with rage — and nothing else — with the way their bodies were being pressed together.

Draco tried to push him away by the shoulders but it only resulted in getting his hands muddy. He could feel it between his fingers, slipping into the webs at his joints with a mix between an oily and gritty texture. The smell of wet earth was all around, so heady in the air that, had he not been so distracted he might have gagged.

When a mud covered leg reached around and started to rub the back of Draco's calf, he shied away in terror, twisting his body so that Harry wouldn't notic—

Harry paused. Oh bloody hell, no no no NONONONONONONO—

"Malfoy," his voice sounded incredulous, "are you...?"

How was he suppose to deny it when the evidence was pressing so firmly against Harry's thigh? Harry, don't worry, that's just where I keep my other wand, probably wouldn't be wise to say at the moment so instead he made a frightened squeak and tried to jerk away. Neither boy was prepared for the sudden momentum and soon Draco found himself being squished between Harry and Earth. Painfully.

Oh this was bloody great. It was all Potter's fault for oiling himself up then rubbing against Draco like a freaking animal in heat. Pathetically, it took Draco everything he had not to thrust his little dragon up into Harry's stomach. That way leads to madness.

Instead he started to twist out from underneath, throwing the body off with his legs and chest rather then his hips. It started to work, the mud being slick enough for Harry to begin sliding off his torso, but soon Draco found he was being pressed into the ground as a muscular thigh slipped between his legs.

Too much, it was all too much and Draco lost control of his body, arching up into the pressure and moaning. Bugger, he realized that this was definitely a no no and his eyes shot open. Harry's face was looming over his, eyes squinting questioningly, so close he could see the mud already starting to dry, lighter in color on his defined cheekbones.

That same wicked smile slowly stretched across Harry's lips and before Draco could analyze it their bodies were being realigned and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he felt a matching hardness pressing into his. Shit, so good, he couldn't stop raising his hips up and moaning as their erections rubbed through the layers of fabric and mud. But everything was okay because Harry was thrusting down, matching Draco's movements to create wonderful stimulation on their cocks.

After a few desperate thrusts, enough sense returned to Draco to speak, well more like gasp.

"What are-- what-- are you doing?"

Harry didn't even pause, answering between thrusts. "Isn't it obvious?"

Mmm, it didn't matter, not when Harry added that amazing little twist between thrusts, rubbing their bodies together and making squelching sounds as the mud was trying to glue them together only to be ripped apart. Good, oh so amazingly wonderful and there was a fire in Draco's belly that was slowly creeping into his groin, dragging his orgasm closer with each perfect rub from Harry.

He was too lost in the act to think rationally, at least that's what he blamed it on later when he reached up and cupped Harry's face, pushing their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss. Mouths both covered in mud created an earthy taste that was, okay kind of gross, but it didn't matter because they were Harry's lips pressing against his. The rhythm paused for a moment as he had apparently taken Harry by surprise, but then the brunette growled and thrust down harder, faster, more desperately.

Draco opened his mouth, begging for more and was not disappointed as a hot, strong tongue plunged in and started to explore. Merlin, Harry was a good kisser, knowing just how to move his tongue, over gums and teeth, dragging it across the roof of his mouth, sliding against Draco's tongue and it was all too much, oh so wonderfully too much and Draco was screaming into his mouth as he came. His body bowed, hips jerking erratically under Harry's as he pulsed his release into his pants.

Slowly his heart started to calm down to a normal pace and his breaths followed as he basked in the glow of post orgasm, better yet post Harrygasm. He was just starting to feel his over sensitized member being rubbed raw when Harry's voice washed over him.

"Ah- ngh- Dra--co," he gasped between unsteady thrusts before his body went ridged and lips messily captured each other. A surge of energy shot through his body, like a bolt of lightning zapping through his muscles, almost as good as another orgasm.

Harry collapsed on his shoulder after it had passed. They laid there in silence and Draco allowed himself to bask in the feeling of Harry's harsh breathing slowing down against his neck. That was something he could definitely learn to love. Hell, he already loved it. But...

But that wasn't okay. No, because Harry wouldn't feel the same, he didn't care, he hated him. Harry had always hated him, ever since they were kids. Where the bloody fuck had Draco's self control gone when he needed it the most? Now he had to deal with this freaking situation.

"Okay, you've had your fun, now get off," he said, harshly.

Hurt green eyes looked at him in surprise. He knew what he was doing, but that's just how he's always dealt with him, pushing him away, keeping him at a safe distance. Harry was fire, and as long as Draco didn't play with him, he wouldn't get burned. Right?

"What?" Harry's voice was small and disbelieving. Perhaps he thought maybe this was more than just a strange one-off that didn't mean anything, but even so Draco couldn't take the chance.

"You're crushing me, Potter. Off." He gained enough strength to turn and slid out from underneath him. He stood up and dug around for his wand before casting every cleaning spell he could think of on his dirtied body. When he turned around he saw Harry sitting on the ground, a lost expression on his face he couldn't help but think looked like a sad little puppy. Of course he was probably just still upset he was covered in mud and Draco wasn't. There couldn't be any other explanation, really.

To wipe that stupid little sad Gryffindor face off he cast a quick scourgify over the muddy boy. Harry looked up at him with wide eyes before a small smile graced his face. He turned away and took out his glasses, rubbing them on his clean shirt before placing them back on his face.

"That was--"

"In the past," Draco finished for him. "Now we can move on."

Harry stood up and his eyes shot to the ground. "Oh?"

Draco reached out a hand and tenderly laid it on Harry's arm. "See you around." And with that, he turned and continued down to the apparation point, not daring to even look back.

The last thing he was expecting when he reached the front door to The Manor was a miffed looking Harry Potter standing there. How in blazes did he beat Draco to the house? He really was boy wonder.

"I just want to know," Harry started as Draco approached, a few choice words all meaning to bugger off forming in his head. "Was it just the mud, or was it me?"

All insults flew away like startled birds. "Huh?" Draco said, rather inelegantly.

"The mud. Is that some sort of strange fetish, or did you..." Harry's face softened and blushed as he spoke, "you know... were you... because of the mud? Or was it... me?"

Sweet humiliation, this was worse than trying to explain sexual intercourse to a first year Hufflepuff. What did he want Draco to say to that? Yes it was you, Harry, the mud bloody disgusted me. It had been you from the start of the game, the way your face lit up when your team made a goal and the way you sulked when the other scored. It was the way you smiled at me when you forgot we were enemies and treated me like just another bloke at the game. It was the way you teased me with what I couldn't really have and then afterwards, the way you rubbed your goddamned body all over me.

Instead, he muttered, "The mud."

Harry looked crestfallen, or maybe that was just what Draco's imagination had supplied. Why would he?

"Oh." Harry said, frowning. "Sorry to have..."

He shook his head and walked past Draco, disappearing once he reached the edge of the wards. It was better this way, right? Right. The whole, don't play with fire deal. So why did he suddenly feel charred?

Two weeks later Draco had completely forgotten about the whole incident after the Quidditch game. Except, of course, for every little detail of what he and Harry had done straight down to the way Harry had gasped out his name in a throaty voice right before coming. Well, even if he did remember it, just a little, he didn't really think about it much. Only every second of every minute of every hour of every day. He still wasn't thinking about it while he sat on his bed reading when his mother suddenly burst into the room looking flushed.

"Draco," she said, "you have a visitor."

Draco raised an eyebrow and stood, heading towards the living room where they would probably be sipping tea when his mother stopped him with the raise of her hand pressed his shoulder.

"No, I wouldn't let him in the house. Go outside if you want to talk."

This caught his interest. He was about to open his mouth and ask why when his mother shook her head and gave his shoulder a little push. "Go see for yourself. I don't understand it."

A thousand scenarios flashed through his mind of what the reason could be varying from someone having an exotic pet they would not part with to a Weasley come to darken their doorway. What he was not expecting was to open the door and find a very muddy teen standing on his stoop. Not just any teen, but The Harry Potter.

"Ah, Potter. I see you've finally gone insane. How's that working out for you so far?"

Harry was blushing under the mud, but his brows were drawn together and his fist clenched in apparent determination. "Well I thought," his voice was weak at first, but grew stronger as he continued, "I thought maybe since you have this... mud fetish... you might need someone to play these fantasies of yours out with. And I... I could be that person..."

Draco was much too shocked to do anything but stand there and try his best not to faint. What had Potter just said? Was he offering-- did he-- does he want to be with Draco so bad he'd cover himself in filthy, disgusting, repugnant mud to do so? This was NOT fair to Draco's self control, how the hell was he suppose to say no to that? Harry was playing dirty. Well duh but not just literally, figuratively too.

"Harry," Draco found himself practically throwing himself at the other teen, probably just reassuring the mud fetish thing in Harry's head.

Well it didn't matter, he'd correct him later because they were kissing again and that was just too marvelous to stop.