Chappie WARNING:
Drarry Fanfic, SMUT, Just the usual PWP
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The feather light caress started from his arms and slowly, painstakingly, traveled up and finally made its way to his jaw. With tenderness Harry would never associate with the man, a thumb strayed and rubbed softly between his lips and obediently, Harry let them open in a soft moan. The soft sound almost echoed through the room and Harry belatedly felt embarassment at what he conscientiously agreed to. He was a better man than succumbing to the pleasures of the flesh.
But he knew it was more than just that.
Harry could still remember the day when he started to long for him. It wasn’t easy accepting the fact that he was gay. But the feeling never compared when the truth slapped him in the face as he realised who he fancied. From then on, he had done everything in his power to keep it a secret. Never once had he told a soul of what he was.
Until now.
Harry looked up to the greyest eyes he ever got the pleasure to see and had his breath taken as he saw the lust within them. He knew it would never be equivalent to what he felt for the man but at the moment, his heart swelled just knowing that he could do that to him of all people. A soft, genuine smile formed his red lips as that small fact firmly lodged within a corner of his heart for his to keep. Now he would have a small collection of memories with the man after this that he can always look back to. Harry had a suspicion it would be often enough now that he would get as far away from him after this. He hid the sadness that bloomed within him at the impending goodbye and focused on the face above him.
Draco Malfoy at the age of 35 was a handsomely attractive bloke. The years had been good to him despite the hardships the life brought to him. The sharp features of his face hardened and lent a dangerous edge to him. His previously lanky body filled out nicely with firm muscles; not an inch was riddled with excessive fat. Harry’s eyes traveled up towards his receding hairline and he tugged softly at the strands that were cut to minimise that. The haircut more than suited the blonde as Harry remembered the first time in years when they accidentally saw each other at the Gringotts.
For a second his breath caught in his throat and when he finally breathed, his heart was ecstatically beating in his chest in a gallop.
That was a few weeks ago.
And now he was here. With Malfoy in his arms.
“Potter, what are you smirking about?” Malfoy was on his elbows trying to keep most of his heavy weight from crushing Harry underneath him. Harry only shook his head with a small smile.
“Nothing. And no, I am not smirking. Maybe you are. With me underneath you and in your mercy, what enemy wouldn’t be satisfied with that?” Harry teasingly taunted Malfoy.
A pale brow raised. “As much as you claim you are not drunk, that statement alone makes me think otherwise. And I do not take someone to bed who is incapacitated in any way.”
Harry held his breath in realisation of what Malfoy said. He didn’t want this to end. Not yet. He held the waist between his thighs closer and tighter to him while he turned sideways to the palm on his face to plant an apologetic kiss. “I apologise. I wasn’t thinking… In the short span of time, you, Draco Malfoy, had become one of my closest friends and confidante. I don’t know how it happened, but I’m glad it did.”
