Author: heyitsamorette
Summary:
Draco is an Auror trainee. They have dueling practice every week. All dueling really amounts to is a game of domination and submission.
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Draco was a good dueler. Scratch that, he was a great dueler.. He was quick with the cast, the magic barreling through his arm and out his wand before he finished uttering the incantation. His spells shot like daggers, one strike, two, three... until his opponent collapsed on the floor in a chest-heaving heap.
"Enough," Robards said.
Draco straightened and put his arm down. He looked up at the circle of faces, curious about who was scared or who was disgusted. A vindictive part of him smirked at the apprehension he saw.
The new Auror recruits--his comrades--were brave and strong, many of them having fought against the Death Eaters in one way or another last year, but none of them could rival Draco.
None except Potter.
And only Potter held his gaze after each duel, each time Draco beat yet another trainee. The circle of faces blurred together until Potter's gaze shone clear and intent.
Draco's fingers squeezed the handle of his wand. It was Potter's turn.
Robards nodded at him. "Potter, you're up."
Harry stepped forward as soon as Robards said his name.
Draco tried not to smirk, he really did, but it was like he couldn't even help it whenever he looked at Potter. The boy was too honest and genuine, and Draco could read the challenge all over his face. Potter was revved up for a good fight, and Draco's body thrummed in response. It was always that spike of adrenaline with Potter. He was the only one who still wasn't scared.
It hadn't always been that way. When Draco had first entered training, everyone was eager to duel him, to punish him both for his misdeeds and for his gall to join the Aurors. One by one they stepped up with cocky airs and faced him in the dueling circle, and one by one Draco turned them into quivering puddles on the floor. Draco wasn't only good, he was merciless. They soon learned that.
The only person Draco ever lost to was Potter.
Not that he tried very hard.
And Potter knew it.
The fact that it pissed Potter off made it ridiculously fun.
Potter came up close to him, their noses almost touching. "You're going to try your hardest, Malfoy." And that was the damn thing about Potter. He didn't request it, he demanded it.
Something had gone wonky in Draco's brain after the war, like it was longer trying to deny how ridiculously fucking attractive Potter was. Especially that abrupt and forceful manner of his. Like right now.
"Do you hear me, Malfoy?" Potter frowned. "Don't play with me."
"Whatever could you mean?"
"You know what I mean," Potter snapped. "I want you to try as hard as you try with everyone else."
"Aw, that's right, you don't like being treated special, do you Potter?"
Potter's cheeks went the slightest bit red. "You're going to give me your hardest."
Draco grinned.
"If you two could get on with it," Robards said, "before you start snogging, that would be wonderful."
Potter jumped, stepping back and blushing, like he hadn't realized how close they had actually been. He cleared his throat and gave Draco one last piercing glare, then turned and walked the paces to his spot.
"Ready," Robards said, and they both straightened, "Bow, and..." They both raised their wands. "Go--"
"Incido." "Ventus."
Draco went flying in a whirlwind of air, spinning countless times and then collapsing. When he looked up through a haze of disorientation, he saw Potter was still standing, though sporting angry red marks all up his left arm where the spell had hit him. The blood began to ooze. Potter quickly flicked his wand and closed the wounds with a healing spell. By that time, Draco had managed to get back on his feet, head steady once more.
Potter marched to him and Draco let him grab the front of his shirt. Draco's knees went just a tad weaker. "Are you trying to actually kill me?" Potter said.
Draco held his gaze. "You asked for it, Potter." He snaked his ankle around the back of Potter's knee and pulled it forward while pushing back on Potter's shoulder, and Potter lost his balance. Collapsed right on his back.
It would have been hilarious--it kind of still was--if he hadn't been holding onto Draco's shirt. Draco fell right down on top of him.
Potter pushed up against him, and Draco fought him back for a few moments, for long enough to feel the press of Potter's hands against his body. It sent shivers through Draco's skin. Then he let himself go slack and let Potter flip them over. Draco's back pressed painfully into a wand--whether it was his or Potter's, he didn't know.
Potter sat heavily on Draco's hips, his hands pressing down on Draco's shoulders. Draco didn't move. He wondered if Potter felt his erection starting to form.
"Off!" Robard's voice cut through the air.
Potter rolled off him, and Draco quickly reached underneath himself for the wand, not even looking at whose it was before casting. "Scorpiatus." It was a harmless spell, the kind first years cast on one another. Little stings ran up Potter's torso. Minor annoyances, really. But they seemed to be annoying enough to make Potter charge again.
This time Draco made an invisible shield and Potter smacked into it. Even the spectators laughed at that one.
Potter made a fist, pulled his arm back, and smashed it. There was a shower of magical crystal fragments as the shield shattered like glass. Draco swallowed.
Why did he feel like this? Why was it that ever since Potter annihilated the Dark Lord, everything Potter did gave Draco a hard on? He used to be able to scoff at Potter's forceful and physical nature, but now he practically craved him. Part of him knew he had probably, on some level, always wanted Potter. Just now, it was more potent than ever.
He wanted Potter to force him into submission like he did everything else.
He let Potter grab his elbow, relishing the squeeze of Potter's hand. "This is your wand," he said, holding it up in his other hand.
"Ah, yes it is."
"You grabbed mine." Potter slid his hand from Draco's elbow down Draco's inner forearm, rather slowly and deliberately, creating warm shivers through Draco's body. When Potter's fingers reached his inner wrist, Draco fought hard to keep an embarrassing whimper in check. Potter fingered the wand clenched in Draco's fist. "And this one's mine."
Draco decided then and there that Potter was going to have to force it from his hand, because Draco wasn't letting go of this moment, of this delicious contact, without a fight. He was going to push Potter's nerves until he snapped and pinned Draco to the ground. It had happened before.
"Give it to me, Malfoy." Potter set his jaw.
Draco leaned in. "Why don't you make me?"
Potter's cheeks grew redder by the second. His voice was low, a dangerous promise. "I fucking will."
"Enough!" Robards stood with his arms crossed. "Why does it always have to be a damn lover's quarrel with you two? Why can't you ever just duel like everyone else?"
Potter's face became practically the color of Weasley's hair after that, and he stepped away from Draco. He held out his hand. "Give me my wand."
"That's not how it works." Draco held Potter's wand up, twirling it in his fingers before Potter's eyes. "You can't just ask for your wand back if you've been disarmed in a duel."
"I haven't been disarmed." Potter pointed Draco's wand at his throat. "Expelliarmus." The wand flew from Draco's hand, and it was Potter's turn to smirk. "But you have." He held his hand out and his wand flew to him like it was a piece returning to its whole. Even Potter's wand showed obedience to him, like it thirsted for Potter's command.
"You two are done." Robards looked ready to tear his hair out. "You'll go to the isolation room and you'll stay there until I come get you."
"But, sir, I won."
"I don't care."
"I disarmed him, I --"
"Potter, get your arse over there right now."
With clenched fists, Potter stomped out of the duelling room. Draco loved the way his back muscles tensed underneath that thin, fitted t-shirt. He followed behind him mostly just to watch Potter fume all the way to the isolation room. His anger pulsated off him and in a way that made Draco's cock stir.
He flung the door to the isolation room open with a bang as it slammed into the adjacent wall. Draco pulled it back and gingerly clicked it shut.
"This isn't fair," Potter said as he threw himself onto the bench, the sole piece of furniture in the room. "I did beat you, I don't deserve to be stuck in here."
"Stuck with me," Draco mused. It looked like he was going to be standing. Potter sprawled out in the middle of the bench, his legs spread wide and his hands resting lazily on his thighs. Draco let himself indulge in a tiny vision of himself knelt in that v.
Potter was looking at him. "Why do you always lose to me?"
"I don't, you were just able to beat me, like you said."
Potter scoffed. "I know you lose on purpose."
"And what makes you say that?"
"It's just obvious. You're really good with everyone else and you're crap with me." Then he raised an eyebrow. "Are you scared of me, Malfoy?"
Draco's breath left him in a laugh. "What?"
"Loads of people are, just 'cause I beat Voldemort. Think I'm scary and hard now, or something stupid like that. You're not scared to beat me, are you?"
"Potter," Draco sneered, "trust me, if I wanted to beat you I could."
"Ha!" Potter nearly jumped from his seat.
Damn it. "I mean..." Oh, bloody hell, he had forgotten Potter was a clever bastard.
"You admit it. You're losing to me on purpose." He demanded, "Why?"
"Why do you always touch me?"
Potter's brow furrowed and his cheeks resumed their coloring. "What are you talking about?"
Draco stepped forward a few paces. "You always find a way to put your hands on me. Why is it we always end up on the floor before one of us wins? It's because you're always pushing me down, abandoning your wand."
Potter looked to the side. "You piss me off, so I want to punch you."
"But you never punch me, you just hold me down."
"Well I don't want to break your delicate little neck."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, please."
"So what are you saying? I always make it a physical fight, and you always let me win? Still, none of it makes sense. I think you like it," he added under his breath.
"I do."
Potter looked up at him.
"You do, too."
He ran his tongue over his lip. "You like me beating you up? That's ridiculous."
"No..." It was getting uncomfortably stuffy in the small, windowless room. "You're right, it's all ridiculous. Perhaps we should let it drop."
"Now I want to know. You like when I... what? Disarm you?" Potter stood up. "When I get in your face, like this?" He walked up to him, and Draco took an involuntary step back. Potter raised an eyebrow. "Huh?" he demanded, pushing Draco's shoulders, and he stumbled backward. "You like this?"
Draco's head was dizzy, his breathing tight. It really was too small of a room. His back hit the wall.
"Is this doing it for you?" Potter put his hands on Draco's chest and pinned him to the wall. Perhaps he felt Draco's heart racing madly underneath his fingers, because his eyebrows slowly unfurled and his eyes brightened with a sort of wonder. "You like this."
Draco couldn't think of anything witty to say, his body just thrummed. He wanted to nod yes, he fucking liked it, but his body was telling Potter anyways. He was paralyzed to the spot, desperate for Potter to continue touching him. And Potter did. His hand moved down Draco's chest to his arms. His slid his fingers to Draco's wrists, causing delicious shivers in their wake. In a swift move, he grabbed Draco's hands and banged them up against the wall.
"Potter..." He only had the strength to whisper. To tilt his chin up the slightest bit.
Potter's lips crashed into his, and Draco was spinning all around, upside down, soaring out of his skin and back again. He kissed Potter back eagerly until Potter pulled away. He took one look at Draco--one moment that scared Draco half to death--and then with a groan kissed Draco again. Draco was glad for Potter's grip on his hands, holding him against the wall, because he was sure he'd fall over. Tasting Potter's tongue against his was disorienting.
Potter pulled away again and pressed his hips into Draco's. He was hard too. "What is this?"
Draco didn't care about that question. He was aching for it. "More."
Potter's lips twisted in a gorgeous scowl. "Like this?" He pulled back and slammed him into the wall again.
"Yesss."
"You're so fucking hot."
A smirk pulled at Draco's lips. The fact that Potter was liking this as much as he was left him both disbelieving and needy. "I want to suck you. I want you to make me."
Potter bit his lip so hard it paled. "Malfoy..."
He was going to chicken out. Draco struggled as if to get out of Potter's grip, but Potter wouldn't let him. He tightened his hold. He was going to bruise Draco's wrists.
"Make me," Draco repeated.
Potter let out another groan, closed his eyes, and breathed in. When he opened his eyes again they were hard and focussed.. "Kneel." He released Draco and took a step back.
With his eyes on Potter's, Draco slowly got down on his knees. The reality of the situation hit him then, and for one moment he wondered if he was making a huge mistake. It was one thing fantasizing about sucking Potter's cock, but what would happen after he did?
Then Potter put a hand on Draco's head, and all thoughts melted away. He reached up and unbuckled Potter's belt, parting his trousers. A trail of hair led down past the waistline of Potter's pants, and Draco pulled them down, chasing that delicious sight. Potter's cock sprang out and bobbed in his face. He was hard and gorgeous, and Draco practically drooled.
Potter's hand tightened into a fist in his hair. Draco opened his mouth, letting just the soft, spongy tip in.
Potter's grip turned painful. "Put it in your mouth, Malfoy," he said low in his throat.
Draco looked up at him, and if he could have grinned he would have. He put his hands on Potter's thighs and stayed right where he was. He breathed a puff of air over the head, and Potter's eyes rolled and he blinked furiously. Draco let just the tiniest bit rest on his tongue.
He thought Potter would fall over, but he put his other hand out against the wall. "Stop playing around and put it in your fucking mouth."
Draco pulled all the way off.
Potter forced him back, and Draco opened his mouth wide as Potter's dick invaded it. It hit the back of his throat and Draco gagged. Potter pulled him off. "Start sucking," he commanded.
Draco complied and sucked him down in one full swoop. The noises Potter made were possibly the hottest things he'd ever heard and he wanted them burned into his memory. He bobbed his head up and down Potter's shaft, getting it nice and slippery with his spit, tonguing the underside and sucking at the tip in a loud, messy kiss. He was drooling all over his chin, but he loved every second of it. Potter's cock was hard, hot, and slick, and Draco had made it that way.
With Potter's cock deep in his throat, Draco looked up at Potter's face, finding and holding his gaze. Potter looked lost in pleasure. He was probably getting close. And because he was wicked, Draco let his bottom teeth just lightly brush against Potter's skin.
Potter gripped his hair with both hands and pulled him onto his cock until Draco gagged and coughed. "Don't you ever...." He panted. "Do that.... Again." Bending his knees, he used his hands to move Draco's mouth back and forth as he fucked his face. Draco relaxed his throat and closed his eyes and let himself be used. He loved it. He came before Potter did, right in his pants.
Finally Potter held him still, and Draco heaved in a massive breath. His face was burning hot, and he didn't want to imagine what a mess he must be. At the same time, the image was hot as fuck. "I'm going to come," Potter said, and Draco opened his mouth like he was desperately thirsty for it.
Potter bit his lip again as he took his cock in hand and positioned it over Draco's face. After a few rough strokes, he was coming rivulets of white, hot come onto Draco's tongue. "Yeah," he was breathing, "yeah, Malfoy, swallow all of it."
Draco did gladly, even licking the rest of it off Potter's slit. Potter's cock twitched its final dribble, and then Potter placed both his hands on the wall behind Draco and just breathed. Draco rested his forehead against Potter's hip bone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so spent.
It felt like they were frozen in that position for hours, just regaining their breaths and coming down from the high. He wondered how much longer they'd have just sat there if Robards hadn't banged heavily on the door.
Potter sprang upright and immediately began tucking his cock back into his pants. Draco stood up shakily. His entire body felt bruised. Likely there were actual bruises on his wrists and knees. He wiped his face on his sleeves.
Robards opened the door. "Are you two still alive in here?"
"Of course we are," Potter said.
"I thought maybe you ended up killing each other." He looked back and forth between them. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Potter snapped. "...sir."
"Yes, well... You're free to go." Robards raised a finger. "But I want nice clean fights from now on or you'll be stuck in here all night, and that's a promise.
He left them in silence, the door wide open. One of them had to make the first move and step through.
Draco figured it might as well be him. He didn't want to wait around for Potter to give him some speech about how this would never happen again and how it was a terrible mistake and how they were completely different people... or whatever bollocks.
He might as well go back to his room without saying anything else, make it less awkward for both of them. Besides, he wanted desperately to shower.
"Malfoy--"
He turned back to look at Potter.
"There's no way I'm fighting clean."
Surprised, Draco's stomach did a pleased, fluttery thing, and he smirked.
Word Count: 3239