create_serenity: (Mountains)
[personal profile] create_serenity
Title: What Can I Do?
Rating: R/18
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.
Warnings: H/D slash, very smutty
Author's Notes: I imagine Draco's feeling quite vulnerable and not at all himself at the moment (since he's so reliant on everyone else to do things for him) but he'll bounce back eventually don't worry! :)
Also I've just divided up the next part of the story, which is already written, into chapters and there's some fluff coming up very soon. Who doesn't love fluff right?

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 9: Experiment

“Fuck, Draco. I can’t do this.”

Draco frowned in puzzlement as Potter sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. He’d been dressing Draco as usual and had been about to put on Draco’s shirt when he’d cast it aside and made that puzzling exclamation. Draco stared at the shirt for a moment as if it might be the reason for his mysterious behaviour and then decided that no, it was just a normal shirt. Same as all the others he so often wore. It couldn’t possibly be the explanation for Potter’s bizarre behaviour.

“Do what, Potter?”

“Dress you.” Draco jerked in surprise. What the hell was Potter’s problem now? They’d been doing this for weeks without it being too much of an issue. Why had he suddenly decided to make it one now?

“Why not?” It didn’t bear thinking about really. If Potter wouldn’t dress him then Kreacher would have to do it again and Draco thought that might drive him insane. He still hadn’t really got used to Kreacher’s attitude towards the things he still had to do for him.

“Because, Draco. Seeing you naked. I can’t bloody stand it.”

Draco stiffened. “I didn’t realise you found me that repulsive, Potter,” he spat, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to look as haughty as possible.

“Repulsive? Repulsive?” Potter sounded angry. Draco sagged and looked at him in confusion. He was pretty sure he was missing something here. Potter’s hands scrabbled at the fastenings on his own pants and a second later his trousers were round his ankles and Draco found himself looking at the man’s swollen cock.

“I’ve had my damn fingers up your arse, Draco. I don’t find you repulsive, in fact I find you the opposite. I can’t stop wanking over you.”

“Oh.” Draco gave Potter’s cock another glance. It looked red and angry, leaking pre-come already and above all it looked so hard Draco thought it must surely be painful. “How many times have you wanked exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Merlin, apparently he was going to do it again because his eyes were closed and his hand was on his cock already, rubbing slowly up and down in a way that made Draco wet his lips without meaning to.

“Come on, Potter, three times four times?”

“A day.”

“What? Fuck, Potter! You wanked four times in one day?”

There was a groan and Potter’s hand squeezed his cock more firmly. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe not, but I even wanked in the toilets at work yesterday.”

“Fuck, Potter, you need to stop doing that.” It was actually making him cringe watching Potter wank right now, when his cock looked so swollen and far too dry. It was also indescribably hot watching Potter lose control like this and Draco’s own cock was already straining painfully at his trousers.

He glanced down at it and when he looked up Potter had opened his eyes and was staring at it as well. “Do you want me to...?” he said, and he was already reaching for Draco’s trousers, his eyes flashing greedily in a way that just made Draco’s cock twitch even more. His eyes were fixed on Harry’s cock as he felt him work the fastenings on his trousers open with one hand and pull his cock out through the split in his boxers.

“You have an amazing cock, Draco.” Harry had let his eyes drift shut again and his hand was already running gently up and down Draco’s hardened length and Draco was pretty sure that he was out of his mind if he was saying things like that to his face, never mind admitting that he’d wanked over him.

Shit. He licked his lips again and then wondered why he’d done it.

He stepped forwards so he was between Potter’s legs and Harry purred in delight as he gripped his cock tighter.

“Let go.” Potter’s eyes popped open in surprise at the instruction, but he did it immediately, apparently not so far gone that he’d try to touch Draco completely against his will. Before he could change his own mind about this Draco dropped to his knees, wincing painfully when they hit the floor hard because he couldn’t catch himself on his hands. Potter was still wanking, looking at him as if he didn’t know what the hell Draco was doing kneeling on the floor in front of him, but apparently not letting that put him off.

“You’re so damn sexy, Draco,” he moaned, which was what finally sent Draco over the edge.

He dipped his head and waited until Potter got to the top of his stroke then ran his tongue up the length of Potter’s penis. The moan it earned him made it more than worth it. So did the fact that Potter finally left his cock alone, dropping his hand somewhere off to the side so that Draco had better access.

“What the hell has got into you, Draco?” Potter muttered as Draco took the head of his cock into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the end, coating it in what he hoped was a soothing layer of saliva. He tried to say, “Your cock,” because it was too good a joke to pass up, but it came out as a sort of mumble and the vibration was probably what made Potter buck his hips and force a lot more of his cock down Draco’s throat.

He nearly overbalanced then, because he didn’t have his hands to steady himself, but Potter was at least aware enough to grab his shoulders and hold him firmly in place so that Draco could concentrate on pulling back and then having another go at swallowing as much as he could take in a more controlled fashion.

“Fuck,” Potter hissed as Draco glided down his cock and opened his throat and knew he was taking in more than Potter had been expecting. He was good at this, he’d been complimented on his skill enough times to know that it wasn’t simply his ego talking, although he thought he probably wouldn’t be quite as good without the use of his hands. Probably better than anything Potter’s ever had before though, he thought smugly, before he put all thoughts aside and concentrated on sucking and licking and teasing until Potter was writhing and bucking beneath him and Draco was having a hard time not choking after all.

He’d have been annoyed if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

“Oh fuck, Draco, I’m going to…” Well at least he’d given him some warning Draco reflected as he sucked harder and let Potter come down his throat, drinking down every last drop and relishing the moans the other man gave as he sucked until it became too much and he felt Potter’s hands in his hair tugging him backwards.

“Shit, Potter, that was hot,” he muttered as he flopped backwards onto the floor and hoped that Potter had come down enough to notice that he was still sporting a very obvious problem of his own. Apparently he did, Potter was on him in seconds, swallowing his cock greedily and sucking so hard that Draco yelped and arched and came so suddenly he actually couldn’t believe it had happened.

Pleasure swirled through his already fuzzy brain and when he finally managed to open his eyes it was to see a very smug looking Potter wiping his mouth and casting a cleaning charm on them both.

“Stop wanking so much, Potter,” he muttered, as the other man pulled up his trousers and grinned down at him, “I know I’m hot but that’s completely ridiculous.”

“Fine. After that I don’t think I need to wank for at least a week anyway.” Draco snorted, but didn’t bother with a snarky retort, especially since Potter was redoing his trousers and his hands were far too near Draco’s cock for him to want to risk it. “Are you going to come talk to me this evening?”

Draco blinked. That was another unexpected declaration from Potter. Since they’d stopped researching a cure Draco hadn’t bothered to go down as much in the evenings anymore. Certainly he hadn’t done it since Harry had got back from Bulgaria. All the same, he was starting to feel lonely and Potter was looking at him with such a pitiful expression that Draco actually couldn’t stand it.

“Fine,” he said, trying to sound as if it was more of a chore than it really was, “I’ll come down this evening.”

“Good.” Potter nodded as if Draco had said something highly important. “I told you it’s not good for you to stay up here by yourself.”

It was unfortunate that he was probably right, Draco reflected, as he let Potter dress him without his usual complaints.


He did go down that evening, and the next one, and the next. They mostly played wizarding chess, with Potter moving the pieces according to his instructions, and it also turned out Potter it turned out wasn’t completely terrible to talk to. Draco hadn’t though conversations about the Weasley’s could be so entertaining, but actually some of the things they did had made Draco laugh so hard he’d nearly cried. The story about Potter’s muggle relatives and the ton-tongue toffees has been particularly entertaining and after Potter had told that story it had occurred to Draco that for him to tell it at all Potter must really have trusted that he’d changed his views about the world. He’d known Draco would laugh at it because it was funny, not because it resembled the muggle-baiting they both knew his father had taken part in.

The thought warmed Draco’s heart more than it really should have done. He’d been accepted onto the Auror program because Potter had spoken up for him and he’d proved himself more times than he could count, but most people in the Ministry still treated him with suspicion and a sort of detached politeness, as if they didn’t trust that he had really changed. It had never occurred to him before, despite his actions on his behalf, that Potter might actually be the one person who truly believed he belonged there.

It was probably why he didn’t really mind that right now Potter was half drunk on firewhisky despite the fact that he hadn’t drunk anything himself because he refused to be degraded to the level of having Potter hold a glass to his lips, or even having Kreacher do it in front of Potter. The idea didn’t bear thinking about. Besides, it was quite funny to watch Potter get slightly squiffy whilst remaining completely in control of his own faculties.

“So what’s it like?”

“What?” Draco started in his seat, he’d been so lost in thought that Potter’s question had startled him.

“Not being able to use your arms, what’s it like?”

“Annoying as hell, Potter,” he grumbled, shifting slightly, “How do you think it feels?”

“I dunno, it’s never happened to me. Except maybe when I’ve lain on my arm in bed too long and it’s gone to sleep.” Potter peered at him, looking as if he needed the glasses he no longer wore, even though Draco knew he didn’t. “Is that what it’s like?”

Draco shrugged. At least he could still do that since his shoulders weren’t numb. “I don’t know. I’ve never done that.”

“You’ve never lain on your arm and had it go numb on you?”

“No, why would I do that? I’m not some great heavy lump like you.”

Potter only grinned good-naturedly at the insult. “Just cause I’m not a skinny git like you,” he said, his words sounding distinctly slurred, “So you really can’t feel anything?”

“No, Potter,” Draco sighed in frustration wondering how many times he was going to have to repeat that this evening, “Nothing.”

“So if I do this…?” Draco didn’t have time to get out the way as Potter suddenly leaned over and pinched the skin on his lower arm. Draco suspected he’d done it quite hard since it had left a red mark, but he couldn’t actually feel anything.

“No, Potter, I can’t feel that,” he said with a sigh, trying to shift away slightly in his chair, “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cover my arm in red marks for your own gratification, I can’t even punch you in the face in retaliation right now.”

“Hmpf.” That was a strange noise, Draco thought, but at least Potter desisted and instead picked up his arm, seemingly fascinated by the way Draco’s hand dangled limply from the end. He poked at it once or twice and Draco turned away. It was just too weird to see that being done to him when he couldn’t actually feel it. It was like his hand wasn’t really his own.

He only looked back when he realised that Potter wasn’t putting his arm down. When he turned back Potter’s face was very near, too near really and he was looking in fascination at the thin white scar that ran the length of Draco’s forearm, running one long finger over it as if to confirm it actually existed.

“Don’t, Potter,” That got a questioning look though Potter’s grip on his arm was too tight for his attempts to pull away using his shoulder to be successful. “I know you’re touching me, but I can’t actually feel it. It’s too strange,” he said by way of explanation, though really at this point it was more the fact that he didn’t like the reminder of why he had that particular scar.

To his relief Potter nodded and instead started poking his finger above the elbow. Draco thought he knew where he was going with this and let him work his way up, poking at the skin until he found where Draco could feel it again.

“There!” he said, jerking his shoulder as Potter hit the point where his nerves were working and his gentle touch set them instantly on fire. “Happy now, Potter?”

“Not really. I feel sorry for you.” At least he’d let go of his arm, even if he was leaning well into Draco’s personal space and peering now at his face as if he couldn’t quite see it properly. Draco wondered if he was so drunk he was having trouble focusing.

“You’re drunk, Potter,” he said, shuffling himself sideways on the seat, away from Potter’s stare, “And in my current state I can’t carry you up the stairs if you collapse down here.”

This was apparently a hilarious joke to Potter who immediately fell back into his chair and started laughing. Draco raised an eyebrow, trying to at least maintain his own dignity, but Potter’s laugh was so rich and deep and real that eventually Draco couldn’t help the quiet burst of laughter that bubbled up from his own throat. That seemed to startle Potter into silence.

“Right,” he said and stood up. Draco had to admire the easy grace he seemed to possess, even whilst horribly drunk. The next moment Potter’s hands were taking a firm hold of his wrists and he yelped as Potter yanked him to his feet.

With no arms to balance him he collided with Potter’s chest, thankful at least that the other man wasn’t so drunk that they overbalanced and ended up on the floor.

“Steady,” Potter whispered into his ear and released the grip on his wrists in favour of wrapping his arms around him and pressing their bodies together.

“What are you doing, Potter?” He’d meant to snap it at him, but he was rather afraid it had come out as more of a gasp.

“We’re going to go upstairs, Malfoy and I’m going to strip us naked and then I’m going to make us both come,” Potter explained, as if this was nothing more unusual than making a cup of tea.

“Oh.” Draco thought he should probably say something more, but Potter’s words had rather taken his breath away.

“I might even stick my fingers up your arse again if you ask nicely.”

“Oh.” Fuck. He sounded like a right moron. He tried to gather his wits and make some sort of objection, but Potter released him and tugged on his wrist, dragging him out of the room before he could form any coherent thoughts.

He still hadn’t managed to form one five minutes later when he was lying on the bed, having already been expertly stripped naked, watching Potter settle himself between his thighs.

“What are you going to do, Potter?” His voice sounded thick. He tried to swallow, but he wasn’t sure it made things any better, especially when Potter was giving him that look. All raised eyebrows and wicked smirks, as if he was the one in control here.

Oh Merlin, who was Draco kidding? Potter was definitely the one in control right now. What had happened to him being drunk?

“That depends, Draco, what do you want me to do?” Okay so he was back to Draco again now was he? Well, he could probably cope with that, especially since Potter had cast that damn spell again and was rubbing his fingers over Draco's arse in what he thought was an excessively tantalising way. His cock twitched. Draco wondered vaguely when it had started getting hard. It wasn’t fully there yet, but if Potter kept this up it definitely would be soon.

“Whatever, Potter.” Oh good, he’d managed to make that sound sufficiently like he didn’t care, even if he did sound hoarser than usual.

“Whatever, Draco?” Those fingers were still teasing his arsehole and now the other hand was running ever so lightly over his cock, teasing him to full hardness. Merlin, how on earth was he supposed to maintain control when Potter insisted on doing this to him? It wasn’t fair. It was too damn good. It was…

“Fuck!” Potter had slipped the tip of a finger inside him, just for a second, and Draco nearly pulled a muscle snapping his hips down to try and follow it as it glided away.

“Do you want that, Draco?”

Oh Merlin, the finger was back. In, then out. His will-power snapped.

“Potter, please…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck, Potter, stick your fingers in my damn arse. Come on!” He snapped his hips down again and this time Potter’s finger was there, slipping easily inside and immediately starting to twist and wriggle. It wasn’t quite so uncomfortable as last time and the fact that he hadn’t quite found that spot yet only added to Draco’s frantic desperation. He drew his knees up in anticipation and groaned as Potter added a second finger.

They scissored and twisted and the hand over his cock was moving a bit more firmly until Potter suddenly found that spot and Draco bucked his hips. The hand left his cock then, pressing firmly on his hips to keep him still as Potter grinned in delight and began working at the spot with his fingers.

“Oh fuck, Harry, that’s it. Right there.” As if Harry hadn’t already noticed that he was writhing like an idiot and panting and throwing his head back and wishing he could use his hands to pull his knees just a little bit higher so that Potter could get in deeper and hit that spot all the harder.

“Yes, fuck. I can’t… oh Merlin.” The heat was pooling, coiling and writhing between his hips and already he was so close. Too close. “I need to come. Fuck, Harry. I need your hand on my cock. Fuck!”

“No.” What the hell? He wasn’t going to come just from this. “This’ll work.” Merlin, could Harry actually read his mind?

“Fuck, Harry. Touch me!”

“No. Trust me.”

Draco groaned in frustration and threw his head back, his feet scrabbling desperately at the covers as he tried to get some leverage to push back against Harry’s fingers. In response Harry grabbed one leg, pushed it towards his chest and drove his fingers in harder than ever.

“Oh, fuck! Yes! Oh my… fuck, Harry! Fuck!” The orgasm almost came as a surprise to him. It wasn’t the same as usual, it felt deeper, less immediate, more of a soft uncurling in his groin that grew and grew until the entire world was only pleasure and warmth and he was only vaguely aware that his cock was twitching and sending stream of come shooting high over his chest. “Fuck!”

He panted and gasped and Harry worked his fingers against that spot and when Draco managed to prise his eyes open the look on Harry’s face sent another wave of pleasure flooding through his body. He whimpered and Harry withdrew his fingers and instead crawled over him, coming to rest with his face just inches from Draco’s.

“I told you.”

“Fuck, Harry.” Those seemed to be the only words he was capable of forming right now. He groaned again and let his head fall back on the pillow. Harry chuckled somewhere above him and lowered his hips until Draco could feel Harry’s erection trapped between their stomachs. It was the other man’s turn to groan now and he rolled his hips in a way that caused Draco’s cock to twitch in interest. Harry stopped and raised an eyebrow

“No one gets hard again that fast, Draco.”

“Fuck, Harry.” No one except him apparently. His cock twitched again and Harry buried him face in Draco’s neck. That really didn’t help. There was another twitch.

“Seriously, Draco?”

“Harry,” he moaned and jerked his hips upwards, causing him to give a whimper. His cock was over-sensitised still, but it was very definitely well on its way to being hard again already. Draco wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Harry had given him an orgasm without really touching it.

There was another chuckle. “You know what, Draco, I can’t even reach your prostate properly with my fingers, think how good it would feel to have someone’s cock in your arse.”

“It never felt like that,” Draco mumbled vaguely, trying to work out whether he wanted to thrust his hips again or whether his cock was the wrong side of painful right now.

“Trust me.” Harry was giving him that look again, the one he’d been giving him earlier when he’d said he could make Draco come without touching him. Draco hadn’t believed him and then look what had happened.

“Fuck,” he said quietly and really did thrust then because he just couldn’t help it. He did it again, deciding that yes, it was the right side of painful, oversensitive but pleasurable enough to be well worth it. Harry groaned into his neck again and Draco realised that the other man hadn’t actually come yet.

“Do it,” he whispered.

“What?” Harry’s head had snapped up so fast Draco winced, worried for his neck muscles.

“Stick your cock in my arse, Harry, and do it before I change my mind.”

There was a moment when Harry gave him a single heavy look and then he apparently decided that he was going to take him up on the offer. From the speed at which he cast the lubrication charm and lined himself up Draco thought Harry was rather afraid that he would change his mind.

“Do it,” he said again, nodding around gritted teeth when Harry hesitated and looked at him again. He had no intention of changing his mind now he’d said it he was going to see this through.

There was an odd, uncomfortable moment when Harry was trying to push past the tight ring of muscle and then he was in, gliding forwards slowly, his eyes squeezed shut in a way that suggested to Draco he was trying not to come just from this. Draco knew the feeling. It happened to him sometimes when someone was particularly tight. It made him feel unutterably smug that Harry was getting the same feeling from his arse.

“Fuck, Draco, you’re so tight.” He’d come to a stop, panting hard, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead and making his hair hang damply in his eyes. Draco cursed internally because really he should be able to reach up and push that aside so that he could see those liquid green eyes and watch how they changed as Harry slid inside him. He couldn’t though, all he could do was nod and grit his teeth more firmly because Harry’s cock was a lot bigger than his fingers and this wasn’t exactly comfortable yet, even if it didn’t really hurt.

“Come on, Harry,” he muttered, figuring that the sooner Harry moved the sooner he could find out if this was as good as Harry had said it would be.

There was a nod and then Harry pulled out a little before grasping his hips and pushing himself forwards again until he was nestled all the way inside. Fuck, he was big. Draco hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d done this a couple of times before, but he didn’t remember ever feeling this filled up before.

“Fuck, Harry, you’re big,” he muttered and then bit his lip because that was too much like a compliment and he hadn’t really meant to give him one.

Harry opened one eye and looked at him in concern. “Does it hurt?”

Draco bit his lip harder and shook his head because it didn’t really. It just felt strange.

“Ok.” Harry started to move again, his thrusts slow and short until he hit something that ripped a strangled cry from Draco’s throat and made his muscles spasm and his whole body arch off the bed.

“Fuck, do that again!” he yelped when Harry showed no sign of doing so, but simply looked at him speculatively. He obliged and this time Draco controlled himself enough that he simply let out a deep groan and squeezed his eyes shut as the lights exploded behind his eyelids.

“Oh, yes,” Harry hissed from somewhere on top of him, and Draco felt the grip on his hips shift. Then Harry was moving, grunting and panting and hitting that spot with nearly every thrust so that Draco was an incoherent mess after only a few strokes and he felt like the only thing anchoring him to reality was Harry’s fingers digging into his flesh and the ridiculous noises he could hear the other man making.

“Oh fuck, Draco, you feel so good. So tight. Do you even… Have you… Oh fuck.”

His knees were grabbed and forced up to his chest and then Harry was pounding into him harder than ever and he’d been right about that spot. He’d been barely touching it before. Now though he was hitting it over and over and Draco knew he was going to come again before long.

“Fuck, Harry. Harder.” He couldn’t help it. It was probably too hard already, but he needed more. More of Harry. More of this. “Fuck. More. Please. More!”

“Draco, I’m going to… Oh fuck, Draco!” Harry’s hand was on his cock now, rubbing him with those rough, fast strokes that could send Draco over the edge in seconds, even without a cock in his arse doing ridiculously wonderful things to his body. He vaguely registered that Harry was coming, pulsing his come inside Draco so that it hit his prostate too and the sensation sent Draco over the edge, yelling so hard he thought his throat would be ripped in two, but not even caring right then because his whole body was alight with the most amazing orgasm he’d ever experienced.

The room spun, his ears rang and he let the pleasure engulf him.
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