![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
omfg-wtf-jamie.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
bottom_dracoTitle:Untitled
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
omfg_wtf_jamie
Summary: Draco is selfish. (I wrote this in one sitting. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Just a PWP with a little bit of angst.)
Rating: NC17
Length: ~1100
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Theme(s): Smut, Angst
Warnings/Switching? I can't actually tell you the warning cause its like, a surprise
Draco bit down on Harry's finger, letting out another ragged moan against the thick, calloused hand that was trying desperately to quiet him, but proving rather unsuccessful. He was bent over the desk this time, trousers around his knees and shirt hiked up, held in the fist of none other than Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived all through Hogwarts, and now Auror-Extraordinare. The cool wood of the mahogany desk caught against his damp with sweat skin, holding him in place, along with Harry's hand clutching his shirt, pinning him down firmly, while the other hand covered his wickedly smirking mouth.
One of the best parts of working with Harry and being Draco Malfoy was that Harry had never been terribly in control of his feelings, and so when Draco was transferred from Wand-Magic down on the second floor of the ministry, up to Field Auror on the fifth floor, his and Harry's sordid affair, which had been going on for maybe a month, followed right with him, growing from a weekly fuck in a dirty motel, to Harry seeking him out during lunch, on breaks, and even going as far to call Draco to his office to discuss cases. Mmh, of course, Potter. Right now they were supposedly discussing the Macnair case.
No. Right now, Harry was so far inside of him that all the moaning Draco was doing wasn't even just for show, just to scare Harry into thinking they might be caught. The sounds that were ripping from his throat were raw and real and sincere, and part of him hated that he was so honest with Harry, groaning that he loved to be taken from behind, or murmuring lazily in the afterglow that he liked that cologne on Harry. He hated it mostly because everything he said, Harry took to heart. Harry had started wearing that cologne every day, and Harry had bought a mirror for his office so he could still look Draco in the eye when he fucked him, and he listened to Harry too. The first time Harry had carded his fingers through Draco's hair and breathed hot and thick into his ear that he liked it when it was cut cropped close to his neck in the back, Draco had gone home to his stylist and demanded it be chopped off, losing the aristocratic look just to please his part-time lover.
Draco really gave himself to Harry, at least during the sex, and let everything go. He'd beg for it and spread his legs and palm himself wantonly, delicate, skinny fingers clutching at his erection straining through his trousers before Harry gave in and covered the hand with his own tanned palm, pressing in just short of hurting him. Draco was doing it now, letting go, sucking on Harry's fingers with wet, undignified sounds and arching his back like a cat in heat, trying to get more, always more. He was greedy and he knew it, but Harry always managed to provide, and sure enough, he picked up his pace, stamina never failing when Draco needed it. Harry leaned down over him, sliding in all the way, and pressing his mouth to Draco's back, just between his shoulder blades and right below where the white dress shirt was clutched in Harry's fist. His bottom teeth dragged up against the absolutely flawless skin, marking it and marking him. "Please be quiet." He begged, not sounding all too concerned as he grinded his hips in a slow circle, making Draco's moans raise in pitch to this embarrassing keening sound.
He breathed out hard, teeth clenching as he forced that smirk back onto his face. "What, afraid of that wife hearing from down the hall?" He grunted out, not bothering to look into the mirror to see the flash of guilt on Potter's face. He had married Ginny about 3 months ago. Just one month with the redhead for Harry to realize he'd made the biggest mistake of his life, and run to Draco to try to fix it. But Draco couldn't change the mistake Harry had made to marry her. All he could give him was his body, to try to help, and he gave it, as often as Harry needed. He'd swear to the grave it was because he couldn't turn down free orgasms, but truthfully, it was because Harry deserved it. He deserved happiness. And if having desperate, secret, but absolutely mind-blowing passionate sex with a childhood enemy made him happy, then fine.
Draco's legs spread wider, lifting until his knees were up on the desk, nearly making a parallel line across, and his arms lifted above his head, grabbing the opposite edge of the desk as he announced his orgasm was fast approaching. Harry leaned down over him again, letting go of his shirt and his mouth and running his palms up each of Draco's lanky arms, fingers closing around the backs of Draco's hands and just holding them as he lost that control of his hips, and that rhythm dissolved into something animalistic, and Harry came inside him, hot and wet, and then it was Draco coming undone, bouncing his ass back against Harry' perfect, wonderful cock and oh god, oh god there it was, and he shuddered, letting it drain from his entire body before he let out a content moan, slumping down onto the desk and closing his eyes with a lazy smile. Harry was smiling above him, he could feel the curve of lips against the shell of his ear, and Harry simply said "Draco..." as he nuzzled in close, then opened his mouth to continue, but Draco was up, pulling his shirt tails back down and sliding off the edge of the desk, come dripping out of him.
Harry got like this sometimes; too close, too happy, too affectionate, and it was always up to Draco to stop him before he said something stupid. Sometimes it was easy to shut him down. Sometimes Draco wanted nothing more than to let Harry say it, to let Harry be stupid, and to let Harry ruin his life. He was the boy who lived, and he belonged with a wife and kids and all that shit that Draco couldn't give him. So he gave Harry a look, one that was rather uninterested as he fastened his belt, saying offhandedly "I forgot to mention that The Weaslette was trying to get ahold of you before lunch. Better get back to that." Back to her. Back to reality. He leaned in and kissed Harry, just below his bottom lip because he wasn't quite tall enough after Harry's last growth spurt around nineteen. The kiss had been for him. What could he say? He was just so terribly greedy.
Author:
omfg_wtf_jamieSummary: Draco is selfish. (I wrote this in one sitting. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Just a PWP with a little bit of angst.)
Rating: NC17
Length: ~1100
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Theme(s): Smut, Angst
Warnings/Switching? I can't actually tell you the warning cause its like, a surprise
Draco bit down on Harry's finger, letting out another ragged moan against the thick, calloused hand that was trying desperately to quiet him, but proving rather unsuccessful. He was bent over the desk this time, trousers around his knees and shirt hiked up, held in the fist of none other than Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived all through Hogwarts, and now Auror-Extraordinare. The cool wood of the mahogany desk caught against his damp with sweat skin, holding him in place, along with Harry's hand clutching his shirt, pinning him down firmly, while the other hand covered his wickedly smirking mouth.
One of the best parts of working with Harry and being Draco Malfoy was that Harry had never been terribly in control of his feelings, and so when Draco was transferred from Wand-Magic down on the second floor of the ministry, up to Field Auror on the fifth floor, his and Harry's sordid affair, which had been going on for maybe a month, followed right with him, growing from a weekly fuck in a dirty motel, to Harry seeking him out during lunch, on breaks, and even going as far to call Draco to his office to discuss cases. Mmh, of course, Potter. Right now they were supposedly discussing the Macnair case.
No. Right now, Harry was so far inside of him that all the moaning Draco was doing wasn't even just for show, just to scare Harry into thinking they might be caught. The sounds that were ripping from his throat were raw and real and sincere, and part of him hated that he was so honest with Harry, groaning that he loved to be taken from behind, or murmuring lazily in the afterglow that he liked that cologne on Harry. He hated it mostly because everything he said, Harry took to heart. Harry had started wearing that cologne every day, and Harry had bought a mirror for his office so he could still look Draco in the eye when he fucked him, and he listened to Harry too. The first time Harry had carded his fingers through Draco's hair and breathed hot and thick into his ear that he liked it when it was cut cropped close to his neck in the back, Draco had gone home to his stylist and demanded it be chopped off, losing the aristocratic look just to please his part-time lover.
Draco really gave himself to Harry, at least during the sex, and let everything go. He'd beg for it and spread his legs and palm himself wantonly, delicate, skinny fingers clutching at his erection straining through his trousers before Harry gave in and covered the hand with his own tanned palm, pressing in just short of hurting him. Draco was doing it now, letting go, sucking on Harry's fingers with wet, undignified sounds and arching his back like a cat in heat, trying to get more, always more. He was greedy and he knew it, but Harry always managed to provide, and sure enough, he picked up his pace, stamina never failing when Draco needed it. Harry leaned down over him, sliding in all the way, and pressing his mouth to Draco's back, just between his shoulder blades and right below where the white dress shirt was clutched in Harry's fist. His bottom teeth dragged up against the absolutely flawless skin, marking it and marking him. "Please be quiet." He begged, not sounding all too concerned as he grinded his hips in a slow circle, making Draco's moans raise in pitch to this embarrassing keening sound.
He breathed out hard, teeth clenching as he forced that smirk back onto his face. "What, afraid of that wife hearing from down the hall?" He grunted out, not bothering to look into the mirror to see the flash of guilt on Potter's face. He had married Ginny about 3 months ago. Just one month with the redhead for Harry to realize he'd made the biggest mistake of his life, and run to Draco to try to fix it. But Draco couldn't change the mistake Harry had made to marry her. All he could give him was his body, to try to help, and he gave it, as often as Harry needed. He'd swear to the grave it was because he couldn't turn down free orgasms, but truthfully, it was because Harry deserved it. He deserved happiness. And if having desperate, secret, but absolutely mind-blowing passionate sex with a childhood enemy made him happy, then fine.
Draco's legs spread wider, lifting until his knees were up on the desk, nearly making a parallel line across, and his arms lifted above his head, grabbing the opposite edge of the desk as he announced his orgasm was fast approaching. Harry leaned down over him again, letting go of his shirt and his mouth and running his palms up each of Draco's lanky arms, fingers closing around the backs of Draco's hands and just holding them as he lost that control of his hips, and that rhythm dissolved into something animalistic, and Harry came inside him, hot and wet, and then it was Draco coming undone, bouncing his ass back against Harry' perfect, wonderful cock and oh god, oh god there it was, and he shuddered, letting it drain from his entire body before he let out a content moan, slumping down onto the desk and closing his eyes with a lazy smile. Harry was smiling above him, he could feel the curve of lips against the shell of his ear, and Harry simply said "Draco..." as he nuzzled in close, then opened his mouth to continue, but Draco was up, pulling his shirt tails back down and sliding off the edge of the desk, come dripping out of him.
Harry got like this sometimes; too close, too happy, too affectionate, and it was always up to Draco to stop him before he said something stupid. Sometimes it was easy to shut him down. Sometimes Draco wanted nothing more than to let Harry say it, to let Harry be stupid, and to let Harry ruin his life. He was the boy who lived, and he belonged with a wife and kids and all that shit that Draco couldn't give him. So he gave Harry a look, one that was rather uninterested as he fastened his belt, saying offhandedly "I forgot to mention that The Weaslette was trying to get ahold of you before lunch. Better get back to that." Back to her. Back to reality. He leaned in and kissed Harry, just below his bottom lip because he wasn't quite tall enough after Harry's last growth spurt around nineteen. The kiss had been for him. What could he say? He was just so terribly greedy.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-12-02 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 12:11 am (UTC)That right there? BEST LINE EVER.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 12:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 08:27 pm (UTC)Twocanz