To the Victor Go the Spoils

Draco's bare fingers left gooseflesh in their wake as they slid up Harry's sides. They were cold and smooth compared to the textured leather covering the Slytherin Seeker's palms, a mind-numbing contrast. Harry shivered even as he arched up into the touch, into the rough caress of those gloved hands. With a glance, he caught the amused twinkle in Draco's eyes and the upward twitch of his lips.

"Cold?" Draco asked, as if he cared whether Harry was cold. As if Harry himself cared.

A quick nod was Harry's answer as he strained upward for a kiss. He sighed into the heat that covered his mouth, bringing up a hand to tangle his fingers in blonde strands drenched in early May rain. Every movement of Draco's tongue was echoed by a stirring in his groin that blocked out the sinking feeling of defeat. It had been the first time Draco had ever beaten Harry to the snitch, and the euphoria of victory showed in the Slytherin's smirk as he pulled back. The expression looked silly combined with the red rings still circling Draco's eyes where his goggles had been.

"How long have you waited for this?" Harry asked.

He had meant victory, but when his question was met with silence, he wondered if Draco had understood it differently.

"I'm not sure," Draco said. The empty look in his eyes was a sure sign that he was sifting through a collage of faded memories.

Harry understood; he was no longer sure of anything where Draco was concerned. The one thing he was certain of, though, was how exposed he felt, lying naked on wet grass with a fully uniformed Slytherin settled in between his legs.

Draco's Quidditch robes covered Harry like a blanket as the blond leaned in to lick along Harry's neck, sliding a gloved hand in between their bodies to rub its textured palm over a hard nipple. Harry tilted his head back as he gasped, and Draco took the opportunity to kiss along his jaw line.

The rain had faded to a drizzle and the birds were beginning to sing again. Harry chuckled, realising how romantic his first time was turning out to be. And they'd tried so hard to avoid that, if only by silent agreement.

So this was the advantage of being too busy fighting a Dark Lord to lose one's virginity at a normal age: A springtime shag in the Quidditch Pitch with Draco Malfoy.

Harry felt friction against his cock and realised that Draco had begun to rock against him. Their erections weren't lined up perfectly, but they did rub together on each thrust. Harry was sure he was leaving spots on Draco's already wet robes. His nipples, one of which Draco was now pinching with cold fingertips, felt raw.

He grabbed Draco around his arm guard. "Fuck me, already."

Draco moved backward until his head was in between Harry's legs. Their eyes were locked as Draco pushed Harry's thighs up and lowered his face…

Harry felt wetness against his arsehole and gasped. Draco's tongue was circling his entrance, lapping at it teasingly without pushing inside. Harry exhaled a shaky breath. Every muscle in his body was clenched as he waited for the moment when that slick tongue would breach him. When it finally did, he bit into his knuckle to keep from moaning. The sensation was odd, but wonderful. His cock ached for attention Draco wasn't giving it, but Harry didn't dare touch himself for fear that he would come too soon.

Draco stopped licking to push a finger inside Harry. It burned, but that was okay, because Draco's hot wet mouth was sliding down Harry's cock and suddenly Harry wanted more. He wanted Draco to go deeper, even though he knew it was impossible as the blond's other fingers were already pressed up against his cheeks.

Draco began pushing in and out to the same rhythm his mouth was moving on Harry's cock. Nothing in the world existed but the pressure building in Harry's groin and the strange twisting feeling in his belly. It was better than a trolly full of sweets.

Had Draco added a finger? Harry couldn't be sure. All he knew was that Draco was now hitting something that sent waves of pleasure coursing from his centre to his fingers and toes. He groaned in dismay when Draco pulled back.

Sitting halfway up on his elbows, Harry saw that Draco had opened his green Quidditch robes and was pulling a vial out of his trouser pocket with one hand while pulling down his zipper with the other.

"Let me do that," Harry said, holding out his hand.

He took the vial from Draco and poured a bit of oil over his fingers. Draco's cock was jutting forward from the opening in his tight black trousers. Harry watched the Slytherin's face as he reached up to stroke it, spreading a thick layer of oil over the silky skin. Draco hissed between his teeth. He closed his eyes and began to thrust into Harry's hand.

Harry chuckled. "I thought you wanted to fuck me."

The grey eyes popped open, and Draco slapped Harry's hand away with a growl. Harry leaned back again, legs spread and ready, as Draco dropped to his knees.

"Want this?" Draco asked as the tip of his cock nudged Harry in between his arse cheeks.

"Yes."

When Draco pushed inside him, Harry felt as if he were being split in two. He held his breath, digging his fingertips into the blond's arm guards. Draco didn't stop until he was completely buried. The rough material of his trousers seemed to intensify the burn in Harry's backside.

"Relax," Draco said as he leaned in to lay kisses along Harry's collarbone. Waiting for Harry to adjust, he remained still, save for an almost imperceptible, involuntary rocking of his hips.

Draco's thumb rubbed one of Harry's nipples while his lips closed in around the other. By the time he slowly began to move, the ache was beginning to subside. Harry wrapped his legs around the blond's waist and cried out. The angle of his hips had shifted while moving, and Draco had hit that spot again.

"Yesss," Harry hissed, eagerly meeting the next thrust. Draco dragged a gloved hand along Harry's thigh as he increased the pace, spurred on by Harry's wanton display.

The sun emerged from behind a dissipating rain cloud, casting its golden rays into Harry's eyes. He squinted and grimaced, but Draco's blond head blocked the offending light as he leaned in for a sloppy snog. They were fucking fast and hard now, and Harry could no longer stop himself from reaching in between their bodies to bring himself off.

"Yeah, that's it," Draco said breathlessly as he pulled back to watch. "Stroke that cock. I want to see you come."

Harry tightened his grip and wanked faster, his abs tightening as he felt his climax approach. He focused his attention on Draco's moaning, and he was coming within seconds, shooting strands of come over his hand and belly and Draco's uniform.

Harry didn't know when Draco came—he had been too busy trying to regain his breath and come back to his senses. By the time the ground beneath him reappeared, Draco was collapsed on top of him, panting heavily into his ear.

Harry patted the blond sympathetically before pushing off the deadweight so that he could breathe again. As he sat up, he felt a jolt of pain in his backside and winced.

"Next time, you're taking it up the arse," Harry said. He really hoped there would be a next time, but decided to leave that bit unspoken.

Draco thought it over for a moment. "That depends."

"On what?" Harry asked as he pulled on his shirt.

Draco grinned. "To the victor go the spoils."

"Deal," said Harry. He had never lost a match before today, so who was to say he would ever lose again?

The End