Potter grimaced and then scratched the back of his head self-consciously, messing up his hair horridly with the nervous gesture. Draco waited, not quite patiently, his blood rushing south and his cock filling at Potter's every movement. Watching Potter toy with the waistband of his trousers was a bit too much and Draco almost snapped and yelled, "Today would be nice, Potter!" but if he were to be honest with himself, he didn't really want Potter to rush. Draco's nerves might not have survived if Potter demanded speed.
Finally, Potter toed off his shoes and lowered his trousers. They slipped down and pooled around his ankles and Draco's gaze was drawn to Potter's legs, locking on his knees, knobby but oddly endearing. So endearing, Draco was possessed with the sudden urge to touch and lick them, which was probably the oddest thing that had ever come to his mind — one shouldn't be attracted to knees, surely — but the need to know if Potter tasted good everywhere was overwhelming.
Potter stepped out of his trousers and then stood still, one of his hands in his hair again and the other tugging on the hem of his shirt. He looked as though he was awaiting Draco's judgment.
Draco wondered if it would be considered acceptable if he grabbed Potter and threw him on the desk, or at least yanked the rope and pulled Potter toward him, not that Draco had anything against staring. Potter still had his socks on, gray and patched, and his unbuttoned shirt swayed slightly around his hips, his cock heavy and pointing at Draco. Grabbing him and pulling him closer was surely the most logical thing to do, but Draco's limbs refused to move.
"You're not naked," Draco pointed out after a while.
"Um, the less clothes to put back on, the better. In case McGonagall shows up," Potter said and took a tiny step forward. "Er . . ." He looked at the teacher's desk as though to ask, "Will we do it there?"
Draco swallowed heavily. "Bend over any surface you wish, Potter," he said, unable to keep a smile of his face. It was hard to believe that a day had come when he was in a position to tell Potter something as crude as bend over, and Potter would listen to him rather than hex him.
"As if." Potter glared.
Draco sighed. Of course, it couldn't have been that simple.
"I'm not taking my eyes off of you," Potter grumbled, but took another tiny step forward.
It could have been a romantic statement, but it actually sounded threatening. Draco rubbed his temples, displeased. Did that mean Potter planned to look at him while they fucked? Because that sounded nerve-wrecking. And honestly, didn't gay men do it with one of them bent over? Would it work otherwise? Annoyed enough to be petulant, Draco pulled on the rope, though he did it gently. Potter made a small sound of surprise and rose up on his toes, but he didn't complain, so Draco pulled again, until Potter had no choice but to move forward or stumble. Or, obviously, grab the rope, wrap it around Draco's neck and strangle him, which fortunately, he hadn't done. Slowly, Potter approached as Draco grabbed the rope with both hands, pulling and gripping it closer and closer to Potter's neck until Potter stood right in front of him. Without a thought, he pressed his lips to Potter's and gave him a lingering kiss. Potter responded, but pulled away quickly. He grabbed Draco's bound wrist and peered into his face.
Draco shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Do you know what to do with that?" Potter asked and tilted his chin toward the vial Draco had deposited on the teacher's desk.
"Of course," Draco scoffed, insulted.
"Really? What?"
"Potter, I know what to do."
"Then say it."
"Potter —"
Potter's grip on Draco's wrist tightened. "Spell it out, Malfoy," Potter said through clenched teeth.
Draco rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake! I smear it over my prick and shove it into — What?"
Potter looked pained. "You're supposed to use your fingers first. One by one, to make it, er, easier. It would hurt, otherwise."
Draco scowled. "I haven't taken your delicacy into account."
"It's pretty standard, Malfoy."
"Well, excuse me Mr Gay All-knowing."
Potter sighed. "If you don't want to do it, I can do it myself."
Draco's eyes widened as the image of Potter lying on the desk and pushing his fingers into his own arse appeared unbidden in his mind. He would have beggedPotter to do it himself, but judging by Potter's displeased expression, the delicate git would have been insulted.
"I'll do it, Potter, stop moping," Draco said and gave Potter a little push toward the desk.
Potter grimaced and mumbled something that sounded like, "not moping, you uninformed prat," but then he turned and sat on the desk. He shifted around and squirmed, clearly uncomfortable sitting on the rough wood with his bare arse. The teacher's desk was taller than the others in the room — of perfect height, in Draco's opinion — and Potter's feet barely touched the floor.
"We can't do it like that —" Draco said and then yelped as Potter lay down suddenly, pulling Draco with him by his wrist.
Potter — the evil bastard — laughed breathlessly as Draco was forced between Potter's legs, his head all but slamming against Potter's stomach.
"Really, Potter," Draco said reproachfully, but his lips did not appear to be bothered and they took advantage of the situation by trailing over the skin of Potter's stomach, pressing a few small kisses there. Potter stopped laughing, gasping a little instead, and Draco grinned against his skin, pleased that he at least still knew how to shut Potter up. Potter's fingers ran through Draco's hair and Draco sighed a little at the pleasant caress and then, a bit reluctantly, he shook off both of Potter's hands and straightened slowly, testing the length of the rope. He could reach Potter's hip with his right hand, but couldn't move it any lower.
Lovely as the sight of Potter lying down was, the backs of Potter's thighs were pressed to the desk's surface, his legs enclosing Draco's body, and Draco might have known little about anal sex, but he was sure that this would not work.
"Um." Draco looked at Potter's face. "Shouldn't you . . ."
"Right," Potter said quickly, clenching his jaw, his expression tight. He raised his legs a bit and Draco moved to the side, so Potter wouldn't smack him with his knees and feet.
Potter, apparently, wasn't someone who did things half-way. Draco was caught off guard as Potter swung his legs upward, spread them and bent them at the knees, pulling them toward his chest. It left him shamelessly exposed in a way no one had ever exposed themselves to Draco's gaze. His position was one Draco would have thought funny if he had merely imagined it, especially with Potter's too-big socks on his feet, but now he couldn't bear to describe the position as anything but incredibly erotic. Dazedly, Draco edged closer and stood directly between Potter's spread thighs. He maneuvered his right hand, stretching the rope over Potter's stomach, so he could grip Potter's leg below the knee, helping Potter keep his legs in the position they were in. After a few steadying breaths, he trailed his free hand over Potter's thigh, pale and perfect, leading a path to Potter's arse; his very firm male arse that shouldn't have been referred to as beautiful but that was the only epithet Draco could think of at the moment. Draco's gaze swept over Potter's cock that fell heavily on Potter's stomach, his balls that looked ready to be pulled into Draco's mouth so he could suck them, and his arsehole, dusty pink and tiny, so fucking tiny Draco suspected that whoever claimed it was possible to push one's cock in there was insane.
"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.
Potter was enchanted, Draco concluded as his breath ghosted over Potter's hole and it fluttered. Someone had charmed him to make his skin pull Draco's lips toward it. It didn't matter which part of Potter he was staring at: his lips, neck, chest, cock or arsehole, Draco was drawn toward it, forced to yield and press his mouth to whichever alluring part of Potter's body was presented to him. It was the only explanation, the only possible reason that could have made Draco feel compelled to touch Potter's hole with the tip of his tongue before he opened his mouth and kissed it as he had kissed Potter's lips.
Potter bucked wildly and positively hollered, sounding shocked to the core. Draco pulled away slightly, but had no desire to move too far. It was possible he had done something very, very wrong; in fact, he was sure of it, but he couldn't make himself care. Just as he couldn't have stopped himself from licking Potter's neck and smelling his hair earlier. It was clearly a vicious enchantment, but that meant it was pointless to try and fight it.
"What are you —?" Potter gasped, twisting around before he whimpered, "Sweet God. Malfoy, that's . . ."
Draco didn't know what Potter wanted to say, but he supposed it was something positive since his last word trailed into a tortured moan. Emboldened, he caught Potter's flailing hand and gripped it tightly, intertwining their fingers, though considering that Draco's right hand was stretched taut and pressed against Potter's thigh, it seemed unlikely that he was the one who had initiated hand-holding. Regardless of which one of them made the first move, it calmed Potter down somewhat, though he was still chanting Malfoy and occasionally crying out for God. His thigh shivered beneath Draco's left hand, the muscles in his arse clenching in front of Draco's face. It was a good reaction, Draco decided, one he would like to prolong. So Draco did it again, licking a long stripe over Potter's cleft, moving toward Potter's hole as a long moan escaped Potter and he dragged out the name Draco, purring the r and moaning the o just as Draco reached his hole again.
It didn't taste sweet and delicious as the skin of Potter's neck, but he didn't taste bad, either. He tasted Potter-like, which was a flavor Draco was rapidly becoming attracted to — addicted to. As addicted as he was to Potter's moans and gasps, and the tight grip Potter had on Draco's hand. The sounds that Potter made were the most beautiful part of it, Draco decided as he licked the wrinkled skin of Potter's hole with short firm licks, then flattened his tongue against it and dragged it firmly up and down, occasionally pressing his lips to the skin and sucking as harshly as he dared. Potter's cries were a beautiful melody to Draco's ears, interspersed with whimpers of disbelief, moans of pleasure and Draco's name that was gasped with wonder.
Draco's tongue slipped inside Potter with ease, though after it did, Potter clenched and cursed indecently, bucking against Draco's mouth, nearly pushing him away. The desk squeaked in protest and Draco squeezed Potter's hand and trailed his fingertips over Potter's sweaty thigh, trying to calm him down without moving his mouth away from Potter's arse. It worked incredibly, or Potter had simply lost all of his energy, because he stopped fighting. He's body sagged as though defeated, becoming pliant beneath Draco's touch; he even stopped yelling — all he seemed capable of were tiny choking whimpers, though his grip on Draco's hand remained strong.
It was incredible, Draco though giddily, that he had managed to reduce Potter to that, but it still didn't make him feel powerful, just satisfied and oddly grateful to whatever deity allowed him to do it. He moved his tongue in and out of Potter with ease, which shouldn't have made him happy, but it did, and he pushed as deep as he could, remembering only after a long while that he could push something else even deeper inside.
Draco slowed his movements, planning to move away, though he did so reluctantly. The fear of McGonagall made him speed toward his goal, which was pushing his cock where his tongue had been. His lips made an embarrassing smacking sound as he pulled away, and Draco cringed but wasted no time thinking about it. He pressed his finger to the reddish skin, rubbed it a little, and then pushed inside firmly. The digit slipped into Potter's arse easily, and Potter made no sound of discomfort; Draco wondered if he was even aware that he was now being penetrated by Draco's finger and not his tongue. Potter seemed utterly lost, moaning ceaselessly and shuddering so much the desk shook with him.
Only after Draco carefully pushed two fingers inside him did Potter react, his hips moving and arse pushing towards Draco's fingers as though he was trying to pull them deeper inside. Draco groaned, regretting he didn't have an extra hand to squeeze his cock with, because the sight of his fingers moving in and out of Potter's arse was too much to bear, especially when Potter so obviously enjoyed it.
"Draco," Potter gurgled, sounding as though he was on the brink of orgasm.
Which wasn't good. Draco feared that Potter would change his mind if he finished before Draco had a chance to do as he wished. He pulled his fingers away and shot up much too quickly. His vision blurred for a moment and his legs refused to support him properly. When he finally focused his gaze on Potter, he couldn't help gasping. Potter stared straight at him, his face red and sweaty and eyes wide and dark. He no longer looked embarrassed, just aroused and disbelieving.
Shivering from the need to be inside Potter right now, Draco pressed his fingers to Potter's arse again but Potter shook his head violently and squirmed as though trying to get closer to Draco.
"It's fine," Potter gasped. "It's fine. Just do it."
Draco's hand froze and he nodded so vigorously he made himself dizzy. "Right. Okay," he said breathlessly. He grabbed his cock, stroking it with his slick hand, trying hard not to come, which was difficult because Potter was looking at him, moaning and trying to spread his legs even wider, which was actually impossible.
Draco closed his eyes for a moment and then pressed the tip of his cock to Potter's arsehole, his whole body shivering harder than Potter's.
"Are you sure?" This will work? he added in his mind.
"Yes." Potter nodded, then moaned. "Yes yes yes. Just . . . for fuck's sake!" Potter pushed downwards, trying to pull Draco's cock inside. The sight of it made Draco whimper pathetically, and he grabbed Potter's legs, right below his knees, and slowly pushed forward.
Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of having the head of his cock wrapped with something so tight; the only reason he didn't come right then and there was his determination to do this right. Potter's long moan and his quiet gasps of, "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine" prompted him to push forward more firmly. It wasn't easy. He pushed in a little and pulled out a little, each time penetrating deeper, stopping when Potter gasped and shivered. When his balls finally pressed snugly against Potter's arse, Potter cried out and clenched around Draco's cock so tightly Draco was positively in pain, though complaining about it was the last thought on his mind. He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them and looked at Potter's face. Potter was staring at the ceiling; his lips shaped into an O and his eyes wide and round. For one terrifying moment, Draco thought that Potter had fucking died, but then he noticed that Potter's chest was moving up and down.
"Are you okay?" Draco whispered, but Potter didn't acknowledge him. "Potter, are you okay?" Draco said louder, panicking.
Slowly, Potter looked at him and blinked once. 'Yeah," he said finally, sounding surprised. "I'm okay. More than okay. I'm brilliant," Potter babbled almost frantically, then added, "And very gay, apparently." He laughed, breathlessly and a bit hysterically; Draco could feel the ripples that shook Potter's body in his cock. It occurred to Draco that Potter was acting as though he really wasconfused about his sexuality until that moment, and that required some reflection and revision of Draco's earlier conclusions, but then Potter said, "Move," and Draco stopped thinking.
His hips moved, as ordered, and he pulled out and pushed back in, slowly at first, but he couldn't maintain the slow rhythm. Potter twisted on the desk, pressing his palms against the surface to support himself as he pushed back and circled his hips, welcoming Draco's every thrust. He cried out suddenly, and Draco froze and was about to ask if something was wrong, but Potter moaned, whispering, "Don't stop," with near panic in his voice and Draco readily obeyed him. Potter gasped louder, pushing his legs against Draco's arms so hard Draco feared he would lose his grip on them. But there was little time for fear. Draco gasped as his orgasm rushed through him, surprising him with its suddenness and intensity. He barely remained standing, leaning heavily on Potter's legs as his hips pumped furiously.
He couldn't stop moving, even though his thrusts lost their intensity. Potter's choking gasps made him struggle to open his eyes, and he felt guilty that he had forgotten about Potter's pleasure. Potter, however, hadn't forgotten about it; his hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking furiously. Blinking and trying to gather his bearings, Draco pulled out of Potter carefully, and reached to steady Potter's hand. As Draco grabbed his wrists and tugged, Potter groaned in protest.
"Hey," Draco said in a scratchy voice, waiting for Potter to look at him. When Potter finally focused on his face, Draco tugged on his hand again and said, "Come here."
Potter frowned as Draco yanked the rope, and pulled Potter upwards with his left hand. Potter lowered his legs, wincing, and then sat up, his head falling heavily onto Draco's shoulder. He shivered a little and squirmed, probably not very comfortable sitting on his sore arse. Draco gripped his hair and made him raise his head, pressing a small kiss to Potter's lips. His cheeks burned hotly when he remembered where his mouth had been, but Potter made no comment. He did gasp loudly, however, when Draco reached down to wrap his fingers around Potter's cock and then fell on his knees again.
Potter had done this to him, Draco thought as he stared at the swollen red head of Potter's cock, returning the favor was only fair. Gulping, his nose full of Potter's heady scent, Draco leaned in and licked the dripping tip, gasping a little as Potter twitched, his hands flying to grip Draco's hair. Not dissuaded by the bitter taste in the slightest, Draco licked it again, more determinedly, at the same time moving his hand up and down the length of Potter's cock. Potter's fingers clutched his hair painfully, though Potter had tried to ease his grip and failed every time.
"You're trying to kill me," Potter said in a small voice, sounding as though he would be perfectly happy even if his accusation turned out to be true.
Draco paid little attention to him, trying to pull as much of Potter's cock inside his mouth as he could and make his hand move at the same time. It was difficult to achieve, but Draco found his rhythm, moving his head and hand together, not minding the taste, but loving the feel of the warm weight on his tongue. He sucked experimentally and Potter shuddered, so Draco did it again and again, cupping Potter's balls and tugging on them until Potter's grip on his hair turned painful.
"Malfoy, Malfoy, I'm going to come," Potter gasped and shuddered again.
Panicking slightly, afraid that he would choke if Potter spilled himself in his mouth, Draco pulled away, stroking Potter harder with his hand and licking the tip as it spouted sticky bitter liquid. He could feel it dripping over his mouth and hand, but kept licking, remembering how he had loved it when Potter did it to him.
Potter stopped shuddering and he whimpered a little, so Draco moved away, daring to look up. Potter's gaze was fixed on him, wide and hungry, as though he hadn't just come. Draco bit his lip, Potter's taste still heavy in his mouth, and pulled his head away, shaking it to make Potter release his hair. Potter let go, but didn't move his hands. He stroked Draco's hair gently, as though he wished to show his gratitude. Draco's heart began hammering again; Potter's tender gesture was too much for him to take. But he couldn't bear to stop Potter's caresses. His eyelashes fluttered as he tried to let the soft touches soothe him.
It wasn't meant to be, however. Just as Draco closed his eyes, he heard the most terrible sound in his life. It was just a tiny click, but it resonated in Draco's mind like a bang. As the door squeaked open, he supposed he should have felt pleased that McGonagall had at least allowed them to finish.
Potter gasped a little, his fingers in Draco's hair stilling, and Draco closed his eyes tighter in some sort of childish belief that if he didn't see anything, no one would see him.
"Is it McGonagall?" Draco whispered, aware that even though he had asked it quietly anyone in the classroom would hear him. "Is it?" he asked again, cringing.
"Um. No, actually," Potter said, sounding embarrassed but a bit relieved.
Hopeful, Draco opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to see who was standing quietly in the doorway. The moment he caught sight of the wide-eyed person gaping at them with a wand in his hand, Draco groaned and looked away.
Bloody Longbottom.
"Er . . ." Longbottom cleared his throat. "All right there, Harry?" he asked and Draco resentfully thought he could detect amusement in his tone. Of all the people to find him in this position . . . Well, Draco didn't really want anyone to find him on his knees in front of Potter, but the fact that it was Longbottom was especially irksome. Draco considered standing up, but he wasn't sure if his legs would support him. Besides, having Potter's hands in his hair was soothing even in that terrible moment.
"Um." Potter pulled one of his hands away and tried to cover his crotch with his shirt, not quite successfully. "I'm very well, thank you," Potter said primly.
Draco groaned and pressed his forehead to Potter's thigh. "Leave, Longbottom, you bloody pervert," he said, surprising himself by sounding quite firm.
"Professor McGonagall sent me," Longbottom said a bit defensively. "Told me to check if you were fighting or not. Wise woman, not coming to look herself. Slightly evil, though." Longbottom paused, then added, "I always knew I was afraid of her for a good reason."
"We're not fighting," Potter said quickly and then cleared his throat. "Obviously," he added more quietly.
"Obviously," Longbottom repeated, now definitely on the verge of laughter.
"What will you tell McGonagall?" Potter asked and Draco held his breath.
"Well, the truth, of course. I have to," Longbottom said seriously and Draco cursed under his breath. However, Longbottom added, "That you're not fighting but, er, working very hard." At that, Longbottom burst out laughing.
Draco sighed in relief but refused to feel gratitude toward Longbottom.
"Thanks, Neville," Potter said brightly.
"No problem, mate." Longbottom cleared his throat. "Well, I see you have everything under control, Harry, so I guess I'll —"
Draco scrambled upwards and waved his bound wrist wildly, showing Longbottom that it was tied to Potter's neck. "I'm the one who has everything under control!" he exclaimed.
Potter laughed and Longbottom nodded and said, "That's nice, Malfoy."
Draco glared at him and Longbottom chuckled, winked, and stepped backward, preparing to close the door. Just as Draco thought he would leave them alone, Longbottom said, "Oh and, Malfoy?"
"What?" Draco growled.
"That whole kneeling in front of Harry thing? Good look on you." With that, he closed the door and locked them.
Potter laughed again and Draco turned to glare at him.
"Neville won't say anything to anyone," Potter promised.
"Oh, I'm sure he won't," Draco said furiously. "I have to say he's acting very suspicious. Giving me those looks and winks."
"Er," Potter began but Draco cut him off.
"I bet you two planned all of this, didn't you?"
Potter blinked and stared at him in amazement. "You say the craziest things," he said. "Planned what? And why?"
"Everything!" Draco burst out. "The ropes, the detention, the sex! I bet McGonagall was in on it, too. I feel violated."
Potter looked gobsmacked. "Um," he said after awhile. "May I ask, why we would do that?"
"Because." Draco leaned in closer to Potter. "Because they were helping you get what you so desperately wanted – me. Because you're madly in love with me."
"I am?"
"It's so obvious, it's ridiculous."
"It is?"
"Yes, Potter, it is. I figured you out an hour ago," Draco ranted, upset that Potter refused to admit it. "All those things you did. You saved my life, you talked McGonagall into letting me come back to Hogwarts, you said you care about my future, you agreed to have sex with me — jumped at the chance, I'd say. You let me . . . well, you know, er, fuck you." Draco pressed his lips together and decided it was time to shut up, especially since Potter's eyes were widening by the second.
Potter scratched the back of his head and looked like he didn't know which allegation to address first. "I also talked McGonagall into accepting Pansy back. Do you think I'm in love with her, too?" he asked finally.
"Really?" Draco asked, distracted. "She thinks you hate her. She's convinced you'll try to murder her. I hear she sleeps with her wand and wakes up in the middle of the night shouting, 'Is he here? Is he here?'"
Potter grinned. "Yeah? That's . . . good," he decided.
"But that doesn't prove anything," Draco said quickly. "You do realize you made love to my shirt and all but worshiped my cock, earlier?"
"It's a nice shirt. Not a bad cock, either," Potter said, still grinning.
Even though Potter's last statement made him a bit giddy, Draco didn't plan to give up. "Oh, please. You planned this. The ropes do whatever you want them to. Even this." Draco raised his wrist.
Potter stopped grinning and looked at the ropes in surprise. He stared at them for a few moments and then said pensively, "Hmm, could be. I think your wand just likes me. A lot."
Draco scowled and then almost choked when Potter added, "Like its owner."
"I don't like you," Draco said, though the statement sounded odd to his own ears.
"You're right. That's not a good description. It would be better if I claimed that you're crushing on me. Which you are." Potter raised his eyebrow smugly.
"You and your sneaky tactics, Potter. How very Slytherin of you to try and confuse your opponent with crazy talk. Much like your claim that you were confused about your orientation."
Potter sighed heavily. "Malfoy, I promise you, I told you nothing but the truth. I was confused."
"Sure, so confused you pounced on me the moment I offered sex."
"Well, what did you expect? You were kissing me and sniffing my hair. And licking my neck." Potter swallowed. "And well, obviously, I'm gay and I never did anything with another male before and it affected me."
"It affected you," Draco said slowly, then raised his voice and added, "because you're crushing on me."
"I admit that I was . . . physically attracted to you and you were the main source of my confusion — which was very distressing, by the way — but . . . you're Malfoy. It never crossed my mind that you and I . . . well, it crossed my mind, in a strictly sexual sense, but I wouldn't crush on someone who hates me and I thought you did, and I thought you were a git." Potter frowned. "I suppose you are a git and a bit mental, but you're surprisingly funny. Sort of charming, really. In a strange, crazy way. And . . ." Potter looked at him and smiled a little uncertainly. "Oddly cute." Potter looked as distressed by that proclamation as Draco was himself.
That was all very nice, except for the git part, but Draco wanted Potter to be blunt and to say clearly what they both knew was true. "Why won't you just admit that you're in love? It's okay, I won't tell anyone."
"You admit it," Potter said stubbornly. "You're the one who . . ." Potter's voice turned lower, his cheeks reddening. "Licked my arse," he whispered.
Draco winced, but then remembered the event clearly, which made his blood rush south. "That was a spontaneous reaction."
Potter laughed and shook his head. "Oddly cute," he repeated in wonder.
Distressed by Potter's inability to see the truth, Draco looked at his feet and then said, "You're a git," a bit belatedly.
"Does it matter what we thought of each other before? I didn't plan anything, I swear."
"It matters because you're a liar and you won't admit it." Honestly, why couldn't Potter just say it? If Potter said it then it would have been easier to . . . believe it.
Potter bumped his sock-covered foot against Draco's leg. "Does that mean you don't want to experiment with me anymore?"
Biting his lip, Draco glanced up. He tried not to sound hopeful when he asked, "I don't know. Does it? You resolved your confusion successfully."
Potter shrugged nonchalantly. "It was a successful experiment, for both of us. But I think the matter requires further study."
Draco smiled a little, liking the thought of further study very much, but he hurried to say, "I decided I'm bisexual. Not gay, though."
Potter nodded seriously, then smiled. "Okay, then." He swung his legs and hooked his heels behind Draco's knees, pulling him forward between his parted thighs. Draco yelped, nearly falling, but Potter caught him and grinned at him happily once he had him trapped with his arms and legs.
"Honestly," Draco complained, but couldn't find it within himself to feel angry. Not when Potter was smiling at him like that. And not when there were studies to perform.
"So we've agreed on further experimentation?" Potter asked in a businesslike tone, his eyes dancing as he leaned forward so their lips were almost touching.
"I suppose. If you insist," Draco said a bit breathlessly and then moaned as Potter kissed him as though to seal their deal. They shared a long, slow kiss that melted Draco from within, until he found himself feeling boneless in Potter's embrace.
Something important occurred to him and he pulled away reluctantly.
"You meant now, right?"
Potter gaped at him and then closed his mouth with a snap. He pursed his lips in thought. "Now sounds good," he said at last. "Though, well, there is so much we still have to try — to make sure we've covered everything. We can't do it all today."
Draco wrapped his arms around Potter's waist. "So, we'll meet again? Voluntarily? Without the ropes?"
Potter frowned. "We could bring the ropes."
Draco's lips stretched into a wide smile, but then he asked a bit worriedly, "But no one will know about this?"
"Naturally, it's a secret." Potter nodded. "But we'll discuss that part of the deal again in a . . . month." Potter gave him a furtive glance. "Until then you're on probation," he mumbled.
Having no idea what Potter meant by that, Draco concentrated on Potter's first statement. "A month?" he asked. "That's a lot of . . ."
"Orgasms?"
"Time." Draco chuckled. "But, yes, a lot of orgasms, too." And a lot of kissing, and touching, and licking and . . . Draco's mind spun as he thought about the number of possibilities. "Just so we're clear, Potter — I don't bottom."
"Of course not!" Potter gasped as though scandalized, and then grinned angelically. "We'll discuss that in a month, too. Or sooner."
Draco opened his mouth to complain, but Potter kissed him again, which was unfair because that was Draco'sshutting-up tactic, but he couldn't complain when Potter's tongue slipped into his mouth, demanding a response. Groaning, Draco kissed back, losing himself for a few wonderful moments, but then he had forgotten to breathe again and had to pull away.
Potter looked equally smitten, pressing his lips to Draco's with his eyes half-closed.
"For the record," Draco said between answering Potter's kisses, "because I don't want you to think that I'm not aware of it . . ."
"Mmm?" Potter moaned more than asked, grabbing Draco's arse and pulling him closer.
Draco leaned in and buried his nose in Potter's hair, sighing contentedly as he realized he would be able to do it again and again for who knew how long. It was a comforting and exhilarating thought.
"It's my duty to inform you, Potter," Draco murmured against Potter's ear, "that you are completely and utterly in denial."