Prompt: # 4
Summary: Draco was just trying to have a quiet bath. Now Potter has some explaining to do.
Warning(s): (highlight for details): *Major consent issues, although everyone has a mighty fine time. Sneaky!Harry. Voyeurism. Ridiculousness.*
Word Count: ~3600
Author's Notes: Dear traintracks, you leave the best prompts. I am not quite sure this was exactly what you had in mind, but I very much hope you'll enjoy it anyway.
Many thanks to my lovely betas.
“Holy fucking shit!” The words shot out of Draco's mouth like a fox after a rabbit.
“What's the matter?” Potter sounded full of concern.
“What's the matter? I'm just a bit shocked to find myself up Harry Potter's arse!”
Potter smiled apologetically from where he sat on Draco's lap. “Oh, yeah. It is a surprise, isn't it? Are you feeling OK? You were, erm, I think you were unconscious there for a little while.”
“Unconscious? What the buggering fuck is going on here?”
Potter's forehead creased. “Do you always swear so much?”
“Do I...? Merlin! Potter, why are you here?”
Potter's eyes were wide and guileless, and he looked around at the lavishly-proportioned bath in which they both sat, surrounded by steam and the smell of orange blossom. “In the prefects' bathroom?”
“No! Why are you here, in my lap, with my cock up your arse?”
Potter squirmed. By god, did he squirm, and it made Draco intensely aware that their bodies were joined together. How could this be happening? Potter was stark naked, wet, and impaled on a highly intimate part of Draco. Draco was sure he would have remembered... well, something, some series of events leading up to this, not just suddenly found Potter perching there, with his knees up and his arms hanging self-consciously at his sides.
“Well, I don't know where to begin, really.” Potter looked down as he spoke, and wouldn't meet Draco's eyes. “It's all terribly awkward.”
“How about beginning with the bit where I'm having a quiet bath, minding my own business, and then come round to find you sitting on top of me!” Draco supposed he should push Potter off. He would, in just a minute, when his head stopped feeling fuzzy. He leaned back against the edge of the bath for support. “Also, why my head feels like a troll trampled over it.”
“Ah. I'm so sorry about that. There was a bit of a problem, you see. I was... sitting over there, near the door. I was trying to keep quiet. I thought I might startle you if you heard me, so I decided a Silencio would help...” Potter swallowed.
Draco glared. “And?”
“And I must have been a bit... distracted.”
Potter's whole body was tense, whether with embarrassment, or anxiety, Draco couldn't say. Either way, it made Potter's arse clench in the most diverting way. Potter dropped his chin and mumbled, “Instead of Silencio, I cast Stupefy.”
“You bloody Stunned me?”
“You absolute tosser! No wonder my head hurts!”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Potter gave a sheepish grin. “We don't seem to have much luck meeting in bathrooms, do we?”
“Oh, I suppose you're going to say I should think myself lucky it wasn't Sectumsempra?”
Potter's gaze dropped to the pale, thin scars on Draco's chest, and his face fell. “I'm... sorry about that, as well. You know, I really didn't realise—”
“For Merlin's sake, Potter! That's honestly the last thing on my mind right now! I'd prefer to hear about what the fuck were you doing in the bathroom in the first place? And how we ended up like this, with me...” Draco shifted his hips a little, just to make sure it was really true. It was. “With me inside you?”
Potter's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and a small moan slipped from between his lips. “Yeah, that's the awkward bit, all right... It's hard to explain.”
Potter sighed. “Well, it all started when I decided that you were probably still up to no good.”
“Up to no good?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know you renounced being a Death Eater and all that. And made reparations. And changed one of your NEWTS to Muggle Studies. And some other stuff that was probably meant to look like you'd changed and become a nice person.”
Draco sneered. “Some other stuff? Potter, I spent the summer helping to rebuild the castle. I've written articles for the Prophet about how to improve Muggle-wizard relations. I'm the founder of the Purebloods Against Prejudice Society, for god's sake!”
Potter gave another deep sigh. Each time he did it, he drew himself up a little bit and then let his weight go and sank down. Just sank right down, all the way, onto Draco's cock. Which appeared to be, well, it was pretty much fully erect, in fact throbbing with hardness, and if he was entirely honest, Draco would have to say that his cock was rather happy to have found itself deep in Potter's arse.
“I know all that,” Potter said. “It's just that... sometimes, you leave the castle after dark.”
“So what? Sometimes I like to go for a walk in the evening.”
“And you send an awful lot of owls.”
“Potter, have you been following me? I write to my mother, daily. She worries about me.”
“You seem to work very hard in class, and you spend a lot of time in the library...”
“I'm trying to pass my NEWTs, you fuckwit!”
“Well, you never used to do that. It seems awfully suspicious.”
“Suspicious? You've been spying on me and following me around, and you've decided that I'm the one who's suspicious?”
Potter sighed again. Each time he sank down, he gave a little shiver, and his breath caught in his chest a bit. Draco supposed he might as well let him stay up there for another minute or two. It wasn't every day you found yourself with your cock up Harry Potter's arse, after all. It couldn't hurt to leave it there for a while longer, could it, just until he'd had a chance to fully appreciate what it was like?
“The thing is,” Potter said, “you do still seem awfully evil.”
“Evil? I do not.” Draco had never realised that Potter had so much body hair. The trail leading down from his torso towards his abdomen was particularly intriguing. Draco peered down, trying to follow it to its conclusion, but bubbles obscured his view.
“You do,” Potter insisted. “You dress in black all the time—”
“Potter, that is the school uniform—”
“―and your robes are all swishy, and billow about, like Snape's used to...”
“That's called having style.”
“... And your hair can't be that soft and shiny without magic.”
“You consider using hair potions evil, now?”
“And you're so very pointy, and sarcastic...”
“Having well-defined cheekbones and a sense of humour does not make one morally questionable, Potter!”
Potter began shifting about in Draco's lap, every movement sending thrills along Draco's spine. Who knew that Potter's legs would be so lean and strong? Or look so good wrapped around his waist?
A particularly affecting movement from Potter left him gasping. Draco's eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I'm getting comfortable.” Potter tensed his thighs and bounced himself up and down a little. Draco felt his toes curl against the hard marble of the bath.
“Anyone would– ngghhh– think that you were trying to– aahhh – distract me!” Draco's voice sounded a little shaky as he fought to keep his mind on what they had been talking about. He grabbed Potter by the hips to keep him steady. Potter's skin was very warm and smooth, and his hipbones jutted just so against Draco's palms. His fingers longed to grip Potter tightly, to just lift him an inch or two and then pull him down, while thrusting up into the snug warmth of Potter's―
He shook his head, as if that would help to clear it. “Now, sit still and carry on with the explanation. And make it good.”
“Well. I admit I may have been following you about, from time to time.” Potter was distinctly red in the face. “I wanted to know what you were up to, after dinner, when I saw you leave the common room and head up here with a towel and some shampoo.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Hmm, let's think. Towel and shampoo. Going in the direction of the bathroom. No, no ideas at all what I could have had in mind.”
Potter looked serious. “I thought you might be plotting something, OK?”
“What? Like strangling someone with a towel? Poisoning them with my shampoo?”
“I couldn't be sure.” Potter shook his head and drops of water fell onto Draco's chest. “I prefer not to take any chances.”
The fragrant steam from the water rose around Potter's face as he spoke. His hair was starting to curl at the ends and Draco had a strange compulsion to reach out and touch it, to wind a lock of it around his fingers and maybe tug on it a little.
Potter lowered his voice, as if confiding a secret. “I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I followed you here. Under my Invisibility Cloak. I slipped inside the door before you closed it. And I hid – over there – where I could see what you were doing.”
“You bastard!” Draco spluttered.
Potter continued, soft and throaty. “I saw you... getting undressed. Tossing your robes onto the floor. Running the water... and adding bath oil.” He gestured with his hands, and his fingertips brushed against Draco's biceps. “I watched you stepping down into the bath, your long legs disappearing under the bubbles, the water lapping around you as if it was caressing your...” Potter's eyes were intense, the pupils wide. Draco didn't think he had ever seen them quite this close before, and never without his glasses. “Your perfect, pale skin.”
Potter's words were having a peculiar effect on Draco. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Can you kindly get to the point?”
“I watched you wash yourself, smoothing soap over your body. I– I watched everything.”
Draco's eyebrows drew together. “You did?”
Potter nodded. “I saw you... reaching into the water to touch yourself. I saw you getting hard.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I watched you stroking your—”
“You little pervert!”
“I didn't know what to do! I didn't want to... disturb you.”
“Oh, I'll bet you didn't! Why, I ought to...” Draco didn't know what he ought to do. It was hard to think straight, with Potter's big eyes gazing at him so dark and vivid, without his glasses.
“Yes?” Potter shifted his weight, setting the water rippling around them. Draco could feel Potter's firm arse cheeks flexing against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
“Nnngh. I ought to teach you a lesson, that's what I ought to do.” Draco couldn't help just thrusting upwards a little as he spoke. It was just that he had a cramp in his leg from sitting like this. Merlin. Maybe if he just did it again, a little harder, it would—
“Oh, yes, you really should!” Potter's lips were parted and his face was flushed a very fetching shade of pink. Draco found he didn't actually mind looking at him when he was like this, with his face somehow unguarded, and yearning.
“Maybe I will.” Draco gazed at the sharp, dark stubble along Potter's jaw and licked his lips. “But you've some more explaining to do, first, Potter. What happened after you Stunned me? It still doesn't explain...” He waved a hand in the direction of their joined bodies. “This.”
“Well, I, er... ” Potter's hand had dropped to his lap, and appeared to be moving under the water. The bath was topped with bubbles, and the water was mostly opaque from the scented oil, but it looked suspiciously as if Potter were― “I was rushing over, to see if you were OK!”
Draco sneered. “How very thoughtful of you!”
Potter squirmed again. His voice was getting quite unsteady. “Ye-es. As I was running, I... slipped on the soap.”
“The fuck you did! Potter, your hand. Are you—?”
Potter took his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded shyly. He squirmed and shifted and as he did so, he rose further than before out of the water and Draco could clearly see his hand, clenched around his cock. His cock, which was– good god, look at that. Potter had quite a slender frame; Draco hadn't been expecting this. He gawped at it. It was thick and rosy, clasped in Potter's fist.
“Yes, I slipped... and, oh dear...” Potter's voice tailed off, as if he were well aware how lame his story was, or just couldn't be bothered to think of anything better. “I fell on top of you.”
Draco thrust upwards out of pure crossness. Bloody hell, it felt excellent. He did it again. Harder. He watched the tortured look on Potter's face with satisfaction, and loaded his voice with as much scorn as he was able. “You fell on me. And you just happened to be lubed and stretched, did you?”
Potter's face was a picture, eyes screwed closed, his mouth a small 'O', his hand moving with purpose now. “Er... yes?”
Draco thrust as hard as he could, just once, grabbing Potter's hips tight, relishing the feeling of being buried deep inside him.
Potter's eyes flew open and he saw Draco's furious expression. “I mean, no! No, you see, the thing is, I, erm, I was at Herbology this morning, and there was a freak accident with some Gurdyroots... some very large, well-greased Gurdyroots... they, er... ” His eyes flicked about, as if searching for inspiration, but failed to find any.
Draco gave a warning growl in his throat.
“Er, OK, yes, you're quite right. I did just happen to be lubed and stretched,” Potter claimed. “I've started... preparing myself in the morning before lessons. Just on the off chance.”
“Yes.” A laugh bubbled up in Potter's throat. “I always wanted to join the Scouts.” He looked at Draco's blank face. “You know, Be Prepared? OK, never mind.” The blush on his cheeks was spreading to his throat and chest. Considering the situation, he had a strangely innocent look about him. “Anyway, I thought it... couldn't hurt. You never know when it might be your lucky day."
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but the way Potter was moving stole his breath away for a moment. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He didn't know whether it was better watching Potter's chest heaving like that, his hand moving slow and deliberate around the head of his cock, or shutting his eyes, so that all he could feel was tight, slippery heat enclosing him. Potter's breath hitched unevenly over the sound of gentle splashing as he rocked up and down.
What was he thinking? Not better: worse. He didn't know which was worse. Because this really was one of the most terrible experiences of his life, especially when Potter sank down and rolled his hips as if savouring every inch, groaning as if he couldn't believe how good it felt to have Draco's cock crammed inside him, stretching him and filling him and oh, god, if Potter didn't stop that friction, Draco thought he was probably going to—
“Ahhh... “ Draco's head fell back for a moment. Potter really had a nerve, writhing up and down like that and making Draco feel so― “What do you think you're doing now?” he asked irritably.
“Who else? Why are you... Oh, sweet Merlin... why are you moving up and down like that?'
Potter sounded more breathless than ever. "I've got an itch?"
"Well, it seemed silly not to take advantage of the situation."
"I'm the one being taken advantage of here!" Draco complained.
"Are you?" Potter stilled and held his body motionless, apparently with some effort. Draco could see beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.
"Some people would say it's the other way round,” Potter continued. “If someone came in here now, and saw us like this, with your prick wedged right inside me..."
Draco groaned. For some reason, Potter sitting there motionless was even more maddening than Potter moving.
Potter opened his eyes very wide. "They would think it was you taking advantage of me."
Draco was pondering whether he had actually gone mad. Why, when Potter had finally stopped wriggling around like an idiot, was all he could think about how it would feel if Potter did it again?
Potter leaned forward until his hair was tickling Draco's cheek. His breath was hot as he spoke low into Draco's ear. "They'd think you'd dragged me in here to have your wicked way with me. They'd think you were just going to ram your cock as far up me as you could, again and again, until I could feel it all the way to the tips of my hair. "
"Would they, now?" Draco was aiming for casual, but even to his own ears, his voice sounded peculiarly strangled. He still didn't know what the hell was going on here. He only knew that Potter's thighs were trembling and taut against his, Potter's hands were gripping the edge of the bath, and his stomach was quivering.
Potter nodded, seriously. "They'd think you had me right where you wanted me, and that you were just going to make me take it and take it and never stop fucking me until I'm writhing, and begging you...”
Potter's lips were moist, and parted, and Draco didn't think that Potter even realised that his arse was clenching and unclenching around Draco.
“Until we're both sweaty and breathless and coming our brains out." Potter's eyes were shining and eager, and—
Draco heard a growl emerge from his own chest, felt his hands tightening around Potter's waist, and found that he was somehow – and he wasn't quite sure how this had come about – he was somehow fucking Potter for all he was worth, water splashing everywhere as he thrust fiercely into him, listening to his own groans of pleasure echoing against the tiled walls.
Potter clenched and moaned and jerked and generally made a complete show of himself. Nobody could resist – nobody – not when they had the Boy Who Lived gyrating in their lap, every muscle in his body taut with strain, Potter's cock slapping against his own stomach as Draco's movements bucked him about. Nobody could help digging their fingertips bruisingly into Potter's skin and hissing with the ferocity of it. No man alive could help just giving it to him, and giving it to him, and giving it to him some more, wanting nothing more than this: Potter yelping and coming in long strands between their bodies, his legs wrapped around Draco and his whole face lit up with delight.
Draco braced his feet hard against the floor of the bath and emptied himself into Potter's hot, trembling body, throb after throb of intoxicating bliss shivering through him.
Merlin, if this was how it felt to take advantage of Harry Potter, Draco was all for it.
Potter rested limply against Draco, his body a soft, heavy weight. A delicious feeling of warmth and well-being was spreading through every fibre of Draco's being. He took a deep breath and found his nose full of the smell of Potter's hair, which was surprisingly pleasant. He thought he might stay like this, with his arms full of warm, pliant Potter, for quite a while.
Then he realised Potter was mumbling something. Draco supposed he ought to find out what it was; he made an enquiring noise.
Potter lifted his head, his eyes sleepy. “I was just saying that I really am terribly sorry about it all. I'll try not to be so clumsy in future.” His face was solemn, but then a sort of stifled snort emerged.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why, you little—” But he couldn't summon the energy to do more than poke Potter's stomach vengefully with a finger.
Potter frowned. “Do you really mind?”
Draco arranged his features into a mask of severity. “Potter. You stalked me, Stunned me, then shagged me. And you ask if I mind?”
Draco stretched his legs out and waggled his toes in the water, which, thanks to a Stasis charm, was still the perfect temperature. “Well...” He considered the anxious little crease above Potter's nose. “I suppose it wasn't all bad.”
Potter lowered his eyelashes and pressed his lips together as if suppressing a smile.
“In fact,” Draco mused, “I wouldn't actually mind if you wanted to slip on some soap again at some point.” He ran his hand along Potter's side, transfixed by the engrossing sight of his stomach muscles tightening. “Perhaps in the old Charms classroom, for instance.”
Potter raised his eyebrows at the mention of the favoured spot for clandestine meetings.
“Or in my bedroom...” Draco pictured Potter's lean limbs stretched out on his bed in various interesting positions.
Potter nodded encouragement. Those eyes would almost match the colour of his sheets, now Draco came to think of it.
“In, say, about half an hour,” Draco said, watching Potter's lips curve into a wide cat-that-got-the-cream smile. “Or possibly sooner.” He slipped a hand round to stroke the swell of Potter's arse. The look on Potter's face suggested that he was not opposed to the idea.
Draco cleared his throat, feeling a definite stir of interest from his softened cock. “You'd better bring some Gurdyroots with you, just in case. Some very large, well-greased Gurdyroots. It always pays to be prepared.”