The ties that bind us part 2

XIV

"Malfoy," Potter said, his tone impatient.

Draco looked up just as Potter quickly turned his head and studied the classroom's wall.

"Are you going to do something or are you going to stare?" Potter said quietly, his cheeks pink.

Draco exhaled slowly; amazed to learn that Potter was embarrassed. He should have realized it sooner, but Potter had so boldly displayed himself, Draco was sure Potter had no shame. Obviously, that wasn't true. Potter simply followed the silly Gryffindor rule of "do it first and think about the consequences later." Draco wondered how that must have felt — spreading oneself to the other's gaze. He tried to imagine himself in that position as Potter stared at him. The thought filled him with terror and faintness and — sweet Merlin — arousal.

Gulping and shaking his head to clear it, Draco grabbed the vial and switched it into his right hand and poured a small amount of the slick colorless liquid over the fingers of his left hand. Or at least he planned to pour just a small amount, but he ended up coating his entire hand as well as Potter's stomach. Potter's muscles convulsed and shuddered and Draco mumbled an apology, embarrassed by his sudden clumsiness.

His hands were shaking, not because of nervousness exactly, though that was a part of it, but because it hit him suddenly that they were really going to do this. That Potter would let Draco fuck him. That he would let Draco look, touch and — Merlin — violate the most private — the dirtiest — part of him. Draco waited for the feeling of power to overwhelm him, but this time he didn't feel powerful, he felt humbled. As far as Draco could tell, Potter had never let anyone else do that to him, but here he was, waiting for Draco to push inside him. It made Draco wonder what he had done to deserve it.

Draco set the vial aside on the desk and trailed his slick hand over the smooth skin of Potter's arse, moving toward the furrowed opening that shouldn't have been that interesting to look at but was. After staring at it for another long moment, Draco bit his lip and touched the tip of his forefinger to Potter's anus. Potter gasped, his body jerking, and Draco quickly pulled his finger away, startled by the violent reaction. Only after Potter calmed down — though his breath still came in short gasps and his gaze was still fixed on the classroom wall — did Draco dare to touch him again. He dragged his fingertip against the cleft, giving Potter time to anticipate the intimate touch, though Potter shuddered even before Draco had reached his objective again. Potter's reaction wasn't as violent the second time, but he gurgled something incoherent and shifted as though trying to run away from Draco's exploring finger.

Potter wasn't crazy if he was trying to run, Draco thought. Pushing something past that tightness simply couldn't be done. Bravely, Draco experimentally pressed his finger firmly against it, and his fingertip pushed in, but only a little before it felt resistance. Potter made a small sound that didn't sound as though he was distressed or in pain — that at least was encouraging. Draco's throat went dry and his forehead dampened as he caressed Potter's anus, for a second daring to imagine Potter doing that to him before his mind shied away from the thought. Draco moved his fingertip in tiny circles, pushed a little and then pulled away, unable to tear his gaze away from what he was doing. He was fully aware that his cock was painfully hard again and fifteen minutes couldn't have passed. Merlin, he wanted this — desperately. He didn't care that it was declared dirty and wrong by many of his friends; he didn't care that the mechanism of the act seemed impossible; he had never been so aroused in his life. Being with girls never came close to what he was feeling now. For fuck's sake, he thought that Potter's arsehole was pretty. Pretty and touchable, and Salazar forgive him, inviting. Not just begging for Draco's cock, but his mouth.

Draco felt a sharp pain in his knees, but it was only after Potter's loud cry of "Malfoy! Malfoy, what are you doing?" did he realize he had knelt down onto the floor, which explained why Potter's arse was now mere inches away from his face. Potter twisted as though trying to get up and Draco distractedly patted Potter's thigh and made a shushing noise. Surprisingly, it soothed Potter; though, for how long, Draco didn't know. He didn't really want to waste time thinking about it, not while his finger was allowed to treat Potter to such a personal touch. The intimacy of the act made Draco's head spin.