Title: Waiting For Something More

Author: Reiko Katsura

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Harry/Draco, distant Harry/Ginny and Draco/Pansy

Summary: It's Harry's engagement party and he's getting entertained by someone who is decidedly not Ginny.

Warnings: Infidelity and public sex.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. NCII.

Challenge: Written for speedpr0nz. Inspired by the scenario prompt "At a party".

A/N: Minimal/minor edits were made to this fic on 9/18/2013.


Waiting For Something More


"Hurry the fuck up, Malfoy," Harry panted, parting his legs. His trousers, which were bunched up at his ankles, nearly had him falling over. He managed to lean against the brick wall and kick them the rest of the way off.

"Bite me, Potter," Malfoy snapped, urgently tugging down his own slacks.

Harry caught sight of Malfoy's long, pale neck, and grinned wickedly.

"Gladly," he muttered, and leaned forward and clamped his teeth over the smooth stretch of white skin.

Malfoy moaned, his usually dexterous fingers fumbling to unbutton his grey shirt, and tilted his head.

Harry impatiently pushed Malfoy's hands away and tugged on the shirt, ripping it open and scattering silver buttons everywhere. He brought his lips to Malfoy's and swallowed his cry of outrage, then brought his bare knee up to Malfoy's hard, damp crotch.

"Fuck," Malfoy said, and pushed his body closer to Harry's. Harry was quite positive that if they pressed any further together they'd become one.

As Malfoy's hand sank down and cupped Harry's aching cock, he found that he wouldn't have minded it very much.

"I want you to fuck me, Malfoy," Harry said. He licked a wet line across Malfoy's lips and his eyes closed as their tongues touched.

"No," Malfoy grunted, tapping the tip of his tongue against Harry's. "Fuck me."

Harry growled. He removed his hands from Malfoy's arse and placed them onto his shoulders, then turned him around and shoved him against the wall. Malfoy cried out as his back connected with the rough bricks, and cried for a different reason entirely when Harry nudged a finger through his pants and between his cheeks.

"While we're still young, Potter," Malfoy gasped, spreading his legs apart.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry snapped back. He lowered himself and quickly tugged off Malfoy's pants, then picked himself back up when the sleek material shimmied to the floor to work on his own tight underwear. As soon as those were off, cast someplace he wasn't quite sure, Harry wrapped his hand around his cock and tugged once.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, and it took everything in him to let go of his aching erection and hold off his orgasm. The head of his cock was already dripping pre-cum, the tip brushing against and moistening the hairy underside of his navel.

"Don't even think about coming," Malfoy said heatedly.

Harry ran his eyes over Malfoy's lithe form and swallowed. Fuck if Malfoy wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Malfoy was all white, like the first coating of winter snow untouched across a lawn. Even his cock was pale, though the head was flushed pink from his arousal, as were his cheeks and neck. Malfoy was all length and leanness; his limbs were long, fingers and toes lengthy, and his delicately muscled chest and stomach were tall to match the rest of him. Even his cock—that beautiful, pretty thing—was long and skinny, protruding gorgeously from a thatch of blonde hairs that flittered up his pelvis to the dip of his navel.

Harry moved forward and wrapped his arms around Malfoy. He cupped his arse cheeks, separated and kneaded them, then stuck his dry finger to run down the crease. When his nail touched the hard, ridged muscle of the puckering hole, they both let out equally breathless gasps.

"Turn around," Harry said desperately.

Malfoy was clearly to eager to argue. He quickly rotated his body and pressed his chest against the wall, then parted his legs further and pushed his arse towards Harry. Harry non-verbally summoned his wand, pressed the tip against the tight ridge, and cast a lubrication charm. Malfoy shuddered just as line of oil began to leak from his hole.

Harry cupped his hand and held it beneath Malfoy's arse—thinking it a better idea than re-casting the spell—and caught the oil as it dribbled down. He coated his cock with it, sliding his hand from the base to the wide tip, then moved closer.

Harry held his breath as the head of his cock slipped between the crevice of Malfoy's bum. Malfoy moved his hands behind him to open himself further, and with his fingers clasped tightly around his own erection, Harry pushed in.

Malfoy moaned as Harry entered him, and the sound Harry made in response wasn't far off. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the blades of Malfoy's shoulder and began to thrust.

Harry's cock was on fire, and it felt fucking wonderful. He sucked on Malfoy's skin and scratched at it with his nails as he pounded his cock in and out of Malfoy ruthlessly. His balls swung with each thrust, slapping against Malfoy's thighs and arse whenever they got too close. His pleasure only heightened with the keening sounds Malfoy made. Malfoy was scratching at the walls, moaning and whimpering in time with his Harry's thrusts. When Harry reached around him to grab his cock, the noise that came from his mouth, that muffled, agonized scream, was nearly enough to make Harry plummet over the edge and come.

"Harder, Potter!" Malfoy growled at him.

Harry thought that if he drilled Malfoy and harder he'd break the prat in two.

Nevertheless he shifted his aching hips, placed his hands on the stretch of wall beside Malfoy's shoulders, and did as commanded.

It was a wonder that no one came running. Harry had forgotten to cast a Silencing charm and was almost positive that Malfoy hadn't, either. It should have worried him—should have scared him shitless. If anyone stumbled upon Harry and Malfoy in their current situation, he'd be seriously, seriously fucked. But Harry simply couldn't bring himself to care; not when Malfoy's tight arse was clenching over his dick and rubbing the sensitive skin in all the best ways.

Harry's balls began to tighten, and knowing what was coming, he closed his eyes and picked up the pace.

"I'm going to come," he panted against Malfoy's ear. Malfoy let out a guttural moan and soon Harry was capturing his come in the palm of his hand. Malfoy's entire body tightened over him, and the increase of pressure alone was enough to send him over the edge, ripping an orgasm so powerful from him that his vision went white and he had to lean onto Malfoy to prevent his knees from falling from under him.

A long moment passed before Harry could see properly, let alone think coherently. When the fog in his brain had cleared he shifted himself so that he was leaning less heavily on Malfoy and swallowed.

It was Malfoy who broke the silence that ensued.

"Merlin, Potter," he mumbled, his voice muffled from the arm that was pressed against his mouth. "I think you broke me."

Harry snorted half-heartedly. "I could say the same."

Sighing, because it really wouldn't do to get caught standing naked with Malfoy, Harry bent down and began to gather his clothes. From the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy do the same.

Harry got dressed slowly, taking his time in slipping in every button properly, careful not to miss a single one. He performed wrinkle-smoothing charms on his shirt and robe, and cleansing spells on his trousers and pants.

The last item he worked on was his tie. He struggled with it for a long time before turning to Malfoy and giving him an expectant, sheepish look.

Well? He tried to convey with his eyes.

Malfoy, the bastard, gave him a look right back. Well what?

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you helped me with my tie," he said stiffly.

Malfoy snorted but didn't turn away. He slowly walked over to Harry and began fixing the dark material, crossing it and looping it in ways that Harry would probably never know how.

Harry nodded his thanks when he was finished and cast a quick freshening charm on himself. It wouldn't do to have anyone think he smelled of sex, especially when the majority of the people waiting for him thought he was a virgin.

Harry sighed, feeling none too excited about joining the festivities inside.

He caught Malfoy looking at him and quirked a brow. Malfoy narrowed his eyes looked away.

"I'll be seeing you then, Malfoy," he said, feeling both reluctant and eager to get away. They had nothing to say to each other, never had anything to say to each other, but at the moment Harry preferred Malfoy's company over those who were waiting for his return.

Malfoy said nothing, opting instead to give a brief nod and turn on his heel. Harry watched him walked away, turning past a mosaic stone fountain and onto a terrace with white, ivy streamed pillars that lead to the main building, and out of his line of sight.

Sighing, Harry stuck his hands into his pockets and slowly followed.

Harry's engagement party was the talk of Wizarding Britain. The bash was all over the papers, occupying the front pages of prominent newspapers such as the Daily Prophet and even smaller ones like Witch Weekly and The Quibbler. Harry had only wanted a small gathering consisting only of his closest friends, family, and colleagues. But neither Ginny nor Mrs. Weasley had wanted it that way. As soon as Harry asked Ginny to marry him (or, to be more accurate, agreed to do so when Ginny confronted him about how everyone else was already engaged, if not married, except for them, and demanded Harry to get on his knees and make the declaration lest she find someone else), he'd been completely ruled out of all and any decision making. When he complained to Ron about it, Ron had clapped him on the back, given him a knowing grin, and told him that all women were like that, and that things (namely Mrs. Weasley's and Ginny's controlling tendencies) would calm down as soon as the wedding was over.

Harry had given Ron a look that spoke volumes of his doubt.

If he were being completely honest with himself, he'd say that he didn't even want to marry Ginny. Actually, Harry dreaded it more than anything. While Harry loved Mrs. Weasley fiercely, she tended to drive him barmy more often than not. The thought of her being his mother-in-law gave him the chills.

As for Ginny…well, he really didn't think she needed more arsenal to try and take control of his life. Harry was quite sure that, as soon as they married, Ginny would do everything in her power to get him to go to those Ministry functions that she'd always been so adamant attending. So far Harry not hesitated to put his foot down about being trussed up like a turkey and paraded about for the benefit of others, but would he be able to do the same when they married and Ginny would be his wife?

Wife. Harry cringed at the word itself.

It was another issue that Harry worried about. Sex with Ginny was fine and all, but Harry's interests generally leaned more towards the more masculine side of the spectrum.

In his opinion, cocks and arses were just so much better than pussies and tits.

Someone swatted him on the arm, and when Harry turned to see who it was, he saw Ginny. She was standing there in an ivory dress that Harry thought made her look stunning, with her hands on her hips and an expression of exasperation on her face. She gave him a look that clearly conveyed her annoyance at his refusal to mingle, narrowed her eyes menacingly when she realized he truly had no intention of doing so, and then stormed off with a huff.

Harry rolled his eyes and took another swig of his brandy.

Marriage with Ginny was going to suck.

He loved her well enough. He just wasn't in love with her. Harry was skeptical of that kind of love happening to him at all. He knew it existed—Ron and Hermione were evidence of that. He just didn't think the chances of him finding it were very high. Harry certainly wasn't going to break up with one of the few women in Wizarding Britain who he actually found physically attractive—not for or some fairytale happily ever after. He wasn't that stupid.

Harry roamed his eyes across the large floor that bustled with people until his gaze fell upon a pair of gray eyes. He paused to take in Malfoy, who was seated a few tables across from him with his fiancée, Pansy Parkinson, and sighed.

They'd been fooling around for nearly a year, ever since Malfoy landed a job in the same Ministry department as he. Harry knew he'd have to give up his frequent, er, extracurricular activities when he got married. He wasn't that much of a douche bag. And while Ginny oftentimes drove him insane and he wasn't nearly as attracted to her as a husband should be to his wife, he respected her enough to not cheat on her once the vows were made.

Also, he was pretty sure that the bonding vows Ginny and his mother picked out were the kind that prevented that kind of thing. Harry had no wish whatsoever to lose his cock if he even made an attempt at infidelity.

He and Malfoy continued to stare at each other. It was Malfoy who made the first move, swirling his tongue over his lips, parting his mouth, and making a discreet show of adjusting his trousers.

In response, Harry's pants were getting a bit tight.

He narrowed his eyes at him, hoping to communicate how much of a bastard he was for trying to get Harry hard during his engagement party, and turned away just in time to catch Malfoy's smirk.

Harry crossed his legs and set his face in his palm.

Malfoy, the git he was, had a bloody amazing body. Harry loved the prat's figure like nothing (and noone) else. He was attracted to him, very much so, and knew Malfoy felt the same.

But it was only attraction, and nothing more. Certainly not enough to convince Harry to drop his engagement and leave Ginny.

Sometimes, however, he thought it could be. Especially on the nights when the two of them were too tired to do anything else but pass out at wherever it was they were fucking (usually on the rare occasion they were at Malfoy's flat) and spend the night together.

Being wrapped around Malfoy's naked body, their legs intertwining and hair mingling together, always gave Harry a feeling akin to butterflies in his stomach. He would never admit it aloud, but he loved waking up in Malfoy's four poster, canopy bed with Malfoy next to him. Those moments of bliss usually ended when Malfoy was awake, though, and then nothing but awkwardness and tension would ensue.

Harry sighed and glanced back at Malfoy. He wasn't looking at him anymore, and instead was staring fixedly at his glass of wine that was getting emptier by the minute.

Inspired, Harry picked up his own flute and swallowed it down. The empty glass was refilled as soon as it hit the table, and he swallowed that one down, too. And then another. And then another.

When Harry was decidedly drunk enough and thought he could smile without it looking strained he got up and headed out onto the floor to offer his fiancée a dance.

He ignored the sensation of eyes on his back the whole time.


Fin.


A/N: I'm sorry. Still, I hope you all liked this despite how achy it was. Reviews are encouraged. Thanks for reading!