Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Character: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: fingering, Comeplay, Masturbation, Sleepy Sex, Filthy
Summary: Harry is sleepy and sated from a night of endless sex, but Draco doesn't think that should stop them from continuing the fun.
Notes: I thought I had originally started to write this for kink bingo, but upon re-examining my card and finding no square befitting of this kink, I've come to the realization that I just really wanted some messy fingering fic. So, here it is. PWP, of course.
Many thanks to bookjunkie1975 for the quick beta job this morning, and to my vamp (always) for reading what I'd had for this a while ago and threatening to spank me if I downplayed any of the filth.
This story is sort of embarrassingly dirty. I think I've said that about something I wrote before, but they seem to just get filthier as the years pass. That isn't an apology, just a fair warning.
Draco has never been a messy person. Even as a child he'd refused to play in the dirt while his mother tended to her roses, much preferring instead to bark orders at the house-elves in an adolescent attempt to be more like his father.
But now, this. Draco thinks he very much could consider himself that person. He watches, mesmerised as his own come slips down the crease of Harry's inner thigh, the usually-tight furl of his arsehole doing little to hold any in after hours of abuse on Draco's cock. Harry is stretched and used, pink and sore, and Draco knows he needs a break, could use the rest, but all he can think of is slipping his fingers into that mess, pushing his come back up inside Harry and massaging it into his inner walls until Harry is fully hard again, begging for Draco to add another finger, more, perhaps his whole fist since Harry is so loose he isn't sure he'd feel pleasure from only a few fingers alone.
Draco trails his thumb around Harry's rim, still so pliant. It looks so sore, red and oversensitised, a suspicion confirmed by a shallow, sleepy whimper as Harry twitches and unconsciously tries to close his legs. Draco is straddling one, though, his cock hard again and leaking pre-come all over the back of Harry's thigh. Harry whimpers again when Draco's hand finds his other thigh and gently pries his legs farther apart.
"I can't," Harry says, voice muffled by the pillow he's buried his face in to sleep. "Too much."
Draco squeezes his eyes shut, considers begging, pleading with Harry for just one more go. His cock is so achingly hard and the sight of Harry lying prone on the bed before him, helpless and weak from a drawn out night of fucking does nothing to abate his arousal.
But it doesn't have to be that. Not right now. Draco wants to touch him, wants to finger Harry open, pull him apart, and watch the come seep out of his body. He kneads his fingers into the muscles of Harry's thighs, slowly sliding his shaft against Harry's soft skin.
The way Harry is circling his own hips now, minutely against the bed beneath him, tells Draco he isn't the only one with a renewed sense of need.
"If you could see yourself, Harry," he says, sliding his fingers up and down the crevice of Harry's arse, ghosting over his sensitive hole again and again until tiny whimpers turn into moans of want.
"So fucking sloppy," he says.
Harry cants his hips back.
Draco chuckles. Apparently desire outweighs oversensitive and sleep-heavy in the mind of his lover; another thing they've certainly got in common.
"Please," Draco whispers, barely audible on the exhale.
He leans forward, trailing his tongue up the small of Harry's back.
The only answer he receives is another, less inhibited moan from Harry as he drags his leg up, opening himself more for Draco, inviting his touch.
Draco smiles against the skin of Harry's back, sucks a kiss-shaped bruise into the softness of his flank, then drags his fingers along to find the heat of Harry's hole. Harry whimpers as Draco pushes one inside, slowly, savouring the hot, slick ease with which he's able to enter. Draco's eyes flutter shut involuntarily, senses focusing only on the feel and the sounds Harry is making, sleepy murmurs of need. It's fucking gorgeous, his writhing against the mattress as Draco finger fucks him slowly with one, then two digits, all the while rutting his own erection against Harry's thigh. Draco could do this all morning; spend the entire day languidly fingering Harry open, pulling himself off as he watches Harry's greedy hole take him in as deeply as his knuckles will allow. Draco would paint Harry's pale arse and smooth back with his come again and again, no need to fuck him if Harry is too sore; Draco just wants his fingers to be inside him, wants to feel his own spunk dripping out of his lover's arse.
With a firm squeeze to the base of his cock, Draco moves his hands down to the crease of Harry's thighs, just below his arse cheeks, and spreads him open, watches his abused hole contract before pushing his fingers back in again. Three this time; two from one hand, and the thumb of his other. For a moment, Draco considers relenting to his own desires, pushing his cock into Harry between his own fingers, stretching Harry open with everything he's got, everything he can, stuffing him to the brink of pleasure and pain. He wants him so full of come that he'll taste Draco on his tongue for days after, so deeply fucked that his body will never forget the feel of Draco inside, so full. So fucking full.
Draco doesn't, though. He continues to stroke his fingers in and out of Harry while his thumb tugs at the rim, holds him open. Harry cries out at one point, louder than he has since Draco began touching him this morning, more awake, more aware. He pulls his knee up, tucks it under him and struggles to do the same with his other leg. Draco rises up to his own knees, unpinning Harry's leg and shifting into a better position behind him.
Harry looks fucking gorgeous like this, on his forearms and knees, his cock stiff and heavy between his thighs, pale skin flushed with arousal.
Draco drops another tender kiss to Harry's hip, drags his lips down the smooth skin of his arse before kissing him there, too. Hot and dirty, he fucks into Harry with his fingers, sucks an unmarked patch of skin between his teeth and bites down gently, then soothes it with the flat of his tongue as he continues to drive into the heat of his boyfriend's body.
He's got three fingers in, alternating between deep pressure and shallow slides before spreading them apart inside Harry. He twists his wrist, palm up, and watches as a mixture of come and lube trickles down the heel of his hand, between the tendons of his wrist and smear a trail along the Mark. Draco can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips at this sight. The most debauched and filthy-beautiful way of desecrating the symbol of his jaded past.
This is his life now. This is what he wants—what he needs.
Draco fans his fingers out once more before flipping his hand over again, fucking into Harry with downward strokes, prodding at that spot inside that makes him whimper with need, steals his breath, makes him shove himself back onto Draco's fingers, begging for more. With the smallest amount of pressure to that spot, Draco watches as a blurt of precome is forced from Harry's slit, broken pleas falling from his lips as he grinds back, greedy for more.
It's a beautiful sight, Draco thinks as he repositions himself more comfortably behind Harry, between his parted legs. It's more tempting than ever to push his cock into him now—Harry is begging for it—but Draco continues to fuck him with his fingers instead, fast and hard, until Harry's sharp intake of breath brings him back to his presence of mind, reminds him of how fucking sore Harry's arse must be. He slows down again, enjoying the flexibility of the muscles around his fingers, the pliancy.
Draco leans forward, folding himself over Harry's back, leaving no room between their bodies as he wraps an arm around Harry's waist and holds him close. His cock rests snugly in the crevice of Harry's arse, warm and welcoming. Draco licks the shell of Harry's ear, kisses his jaw, his neck. He rocks his hips slowly, not pushing inside, but relishing the jolts of pleasure that zing through him every time the spongy head of his cock drags across Harry's eager hole.
"Please, fuck me," Harry says, voice broken and scratchy and completely wrecked.
Draco kisses his shoulderblade, licks a hot stripe down the center of his back as he sits back on his heels again. He wants to. He wants to pin Harry's body down with his own, lace their fingers together and bury himself inside Harry forever. Just stay there until the world shakes apart around them.
Draco works his fingers back into Harry, spits into the palm of his free hand and wraps it around his own cock. He can get them both off just like this. Neither of them are far from the edge anyway, he knows.
Draco finds that spot inside Harry again—again, and again, and again—all the while roughly stroking his own cock as he watches. Harry isn't able to form coherent words, just broken huffs and stuttered whimpers as he rocks himself back onto Draco's fingers. Draco can feel the moment Harry is about to come, muscles clenching tightly around his fingers as his whole body tenses. Draco doesn't relent in his ministrations against Harry's prostate, just replaces his slow thrusts with continuous pressure instead as Harry cries out with the intensity of his orgasm.
Draco's own release follows shortly. He pulls all but one finger from inside of Harry, uses it to hold him open as Draco's come pulses out and covers Harry's arse, drips down into him.
It's certainly a mess, but fuck if it isn't perfect.
"You owe me coffee. And a bath," Harry murmurs into his pillow.
Draco smiles and swats his boyfriend affectionately on the arse. He doesn't mind being a messy person. Not if this is his reward for it.