A/N: Thanks to all you reviewers out there. Sorry about taking so long to update! You know how it is. This one's for you, Vendelin. I hope you like it! ;D

Studying his face, Draco spoke, a malicious smirk customarily in place on his gorgeous pointed face.

"Scared, Potter?"

Harry only paused for a moment.

"You wish."

Draco grinned deliciously. Lowering his head, he lapped at Harry's leaking cock. Harry moaned and spurred him on. "Surely you can-- ngh, you can do better than that," he said challengingly. He grit his teeth against the onslaught. He was wholly determined not to moan again, but Draco had other plans. "I'm going to make you beg, Potter."

Harry shivered. "Try me."

Draco smiled deliciously and bobbed his head to taste him again. Licking the head like an ice cream cone, he looked directly up at Harry's sparkling emerald eyes, turned dark with lust. His perfect teeth caught his swollen bottom lip in an attempt to stay silent. "It's okay, Potter. You can moan, cry out. You can beg. Go ahead."

He licked from the base to the tip with the broad part of his tongue. "Beg me for it."

Harry furrowed his brow defiantly. "No, sorry."

Draco gave his cock another lick and suddenly disappeared. Harry growled in frustration, but he was back in a flash. He concealed something in his hand so that Harry couldn't see it. He positioned himself between Harry's legs and busied himself with the contents of his hands. Harry squirmed uncomfortably, envisioning things he had only heard about in scandalized whispers and awkward explanations.

"What are you do-- Oh." Harry breathed, as a slick finger pushed its way between his arse cheeks and circled his hole. "You've done this before?"

"Only to myself," Draco smirked, raising his eyebrows jauntily. "Hasn't everyone?"

"No. Er, I mean, I've always wondered but I never really, erm, got around to it..." His breath hitched as Draco pushed the tip of his finger in. It felt foreign and odd and... absolutely, positively wonderful.

"Relax, Potter," Draco hummed soothingly. "My, my. The Boy Who Lived; the courageous mascot and poster child of the great and loyal Gryffindors; the savior of the wizarding world-- afraid to stick his own finger up his arse?" His finger slid in more with every word, until it was fully encased.

"Shut-- Oh, gods. Shut up," he said.

"I'll shut up if you beg," he said conversationally.

"There is absolutely nothing you can do to make me-- Oh, fuck," he moaned, eyes rolling back in his head as Draco curled his finger inside him, brushing his prostate. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"Congratulations, Potter. You've just become acquainted with your prostate." Draco brushed it again and Harry made a strangled noise, eyes shut tight. "Oh, I'm sorry, Potter. Did you have something to say?"

To accentuate his words he leaned down and darted his tongue into the slit of Harry's cock, swallowing the salty precome salaciously, flexing his finger within him. "You were saying?"

Harry broke, moaning, gasping, "Oh, please, fuck, gods, Malfoy, please--"

Draco wasted no time in consuming him. Bobbing his blond head in time to his finger's stroking, it didn't take long for Harry to finish. With a mangled cry that could have been "Malfoy," or "Gods!" or even "Draco!" (the thought of his name wrenched from those lips made him all kinds of excited) Harry's orgasm crashed over him in waves.

He continued sucking, hollowing his cheeks, until Harry was spent. Draco slid himself free and lay himself down on his stomach next to him, grey eyes fixed on his face. Harry's emerald eyes were concealed beneath perfect lids and lashes, and a slick sheen of sweat clung to his skin.

Licking his lips, Harry swallowed. Draco watched his Adam's apple bob hungrily.

"Untie me, Draco."

The sound of that voice saying his name, still husky from his arousal, sent shivers down Draco's spine. He obliged silently, sliding the ties off his wrists; they hung from the bedposts innocently. No sooner was he untied than he was pinned to the bed, Potter's breath hot in his ear. "You sodding bastard."

He shuddered and tried to push him off but Harry refused to move. "You gorgeous, irresistible," he licked Draco's ear and he stifled a moan, "bastard. Now you're gonna get it."

Suddenly Draco found himself lying on his stomach again. He panicked for a moment but Harry pressed hot fingers to his neck, rubbing in small circles. "Don't worry, Draco-- I'm not going to fuck you..." His fingers slid down his back, traversing the ridge of his spine, playing across his skin, until they rested on the pale curve of his arse. "...today."

Draco simultaneously scowled and grew harder from his blunt words. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going. Chuckling softly, Harry slid his hands to his cheeks, spreading them apart tenderly. "May I?" he inquired politely. Without waiting for an answer, The Boy Who Lived thrust his tongue against Draco's arsehole, briefly flicking across it and then switching to broad, long licks from the bottom up.

"Oh, fuck, sweet Merlin, gods-- ah, ahh, fuck," Draco groaned, shoving his face into the pillow and raising his hips up to meet Harry's hot, wet tongue. Harry paused to grin at the back of his head and cocked his head, listening to Draco's indignant whine.

"Merlin, Draco, you taste so good," he murmured, pulling on Draco's hips so that he raised himself up onto his knees, head still buried in the pillow. Harry laughed out loud. "You look so good. I wish you could see yourself."

Draco shivered at the thought of what he looked like, pale arse stuck in the air, the slick curve of his back, the beads of sweat he could feel trickling down his skin, his mussed hair-- He looked back over his shoulder at Harry. The sight of him almost stopped his heart. His usually untidy hair was slick with sweat and his eyes were so dark green that they almost looked black-- Draco's stomach jolted when he realized it was because he was that aroused. Already? He wondered idly, but then again. Teenagers. Horny wankers, the lot of them.

Harry grinned at him, and Draco's heart did stop. He raised his eyebrows at Draco's sudden fierce lip biting, and without breaking eye contact, he dipped his head down and resumed his work. He slid his right hand between Draco's legs to softly squeeze his length, and he buried his head in the pillow again, gasping. Harry quickened his pace, stroking himself roughly, left-handed, to the same pace as he drove his tongue into him. He came embarrassingly quickly, but he didn't cease his tongue-fucking him. He wanted Draco's orgasm to hit him hard.

The fact that Harry was winging it and had absolutely no experience in rimming didn't affect the speed in which he wretched a final strangled cry from Draco's lips and hot come spurting from his cock. Harry raised his head and continued milking Draco until he collapsed, knees giving out, gasping Harry's name.

Harry crawled up next to him, heart pounding. Now that this was all over, he felt inexplicably nervous. Yeah, they had touched each other-- Merlin, he had stuck his tongue in the git's arsehole-- but would that really change anything?

Draco's shoulders heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, and he flipped himself over to stare at the ceiling. Harry watched him from the corner of his eye, pretending to be staring at the ceiling as well. When their breathing evened out Draco abruptly turned his head to fix Harry with a piercing grey stare.

Harry swallowed. "So."

Draco looked at him for a moment. "So."

Harry shifted his legs restlessly. He was beginning to feel vulnerable. Rather than waste another minute heading towards that uncomfortable inevitability, he rolled over and off the bed and began gathering his clothes.

Draco raised himself up on his elbows indignantly. "Potter."

Harry ignored him nervously, looking for his pants. Did I even wear pants today? He rummaged through the clothes on the floor, trying to avoid bending over. For some reason that made him feel even more vulnerable.


Harry found his pants.


Gulping, Harry slowly turned to face Draco. "Yeah?"

"What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Harry just looked at him uncertainly, and then shrugged, waving his pants weakly.

Draco just stared at him. "Get back in bed."

Harry blinked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Now." He struggled to pull the covers from underneath him, kicking his legs to dislodge them. Sighing, he threw himself underneath them and whipped them over his body with a flourish. The air puffed out from under them slowly as he looked at Harry, with a pointed glance at the empty space on the bed next to him.

Harry looked at him for a small moment, and then dropped his pants on the floor. He fought to keep a smile off his face as he clambered into bed. "Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy. Especially after what I've just done to you."

Draco stretched contentedly and then wrapped his arm around Harry's thin torso. "Please, Potter. You should be thanking me for letting you touch me with that tongue." He yawned boredly. "You're welcome, by the way."

Harry tugged Draco closer and fit his chin on top of his blond head. "Shut up, Malfoy."

Draco smiled sleepily and laced his fingers with Harry's. Harry looked down at their hands, surprised, before he smiled and squeezed his fingers slightly.

"Don't read too much into this, Potter. I'm still a Malfoy, and you're still just Scarhead. Tomorrow morning it will be like nothing happened," Draco commented without heat.

But the way Draco's thumb kept brushing Harry's fingers affectionately told him something else.