𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐒 2008

On Falcon's Wings (3/3)

On Falcon's Wings Part 3 of 3

Draco had been dreaming of warm arms and a hard body, and awoke slowly, trying to correlate his dream to the reality that he was, in fact, being held in warm arms against a hard body. It took a moment for his waking mind to catch up with his current reality, but finally his eyes drifted open, and he found himself staring at the hard stone wall just inches from his face. He glanced down and saw the well formed masculine hand spread on his chest, felt the weight of an arm around his waist, and remembered.

Potter. It was Potter. Potter, who had saved him from Greyback and MacNair, Potter who had brought him food, and hope. Potter, who could at will, it seemed, turn himself into a ferocious bird. And Potter, who even now, was spooned tight against his back, breathing deeply in sleep, and pressing a formidable erection against the cleft in his arse.

Draco’s breath caught as he felt his own cock throbbing behind the fly of his trousers. He usually awoke hard, but in this case, he thought it had more to do with the company he was keeping than with his body’s customary response. He pressed back against that imposing hardness and his eyes rolled closed in pleasure. It had been so long since he’d been held by anyone, and for it to be Potter…

No, he thought warmly, not Potter. Harry. It was Harry who held him tight, Harry who had been sent by Severus to save him; Harry who had kissed him with such passion before they’d been interrupted by Goyle and Carrow outside of the door. Astounding as it seemed, Harry Potter had admitted to caring about him, and Draco’s tattered heart soared. He’d had a crush on The Boy Who Lived almost from the first moment he’d met him; he’d never for one moment believed that his feelings would be returned.

Oh, he’d put on a good show of despising Potter; so good that there were times when he’d actually believed it himself. But at night, alone in his bed, he’d known the truth. He’d imagined Harry’s scowl, or the fire in his green eyes, and he’d get hard just thinking about him. Or he’d picture the utterly effortless way he moved through the sky on a broom, and ache. And now, he could move that way through a cloudless sunset without benefit of broom, and Draco would never be able to explain what that thought did to him. His cock twitched insistently in his trousers when Harry’s warm breath caressed the back of his ear, and carefully, Draco moved away just enough to roll to his back.

He turned his head to look into Harry’s face, and his heart turned over in his chest, hard. He was so ruddy handsome, he thought, so unconsciously appealing. His hair was longer than Draco had ever seen it, messy as it had always been, but falling in soft waves around his face. His jaw and upper lip were dark with stubble, and Draco thought it very sexy. Finally able to watch him at his leisure, he studied the beautifully arched brows, the straight nose, the full lips parted in sleep, the square chin. His hair covered the famous scar, and in that moment he might have been anyone, just as Draco might have been anyone else as well. Just one young man in another’s embrace, not the son of a Death Eater and the preemptive savior of the wizarding world. Draco reached up and gently touched Harry’s hair, and he made a soft sound in his sleep and turned his face toward the caress. And then he moved, his leg lifting and coming to rest, hard thigh over Draco’s groin, and grey eyes rolled shut as a wash of heat ran over his body from his face to his toes, leaving him breathless and tingling in its wake.

Ignoring the little voice in his head telling him that he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation, Draco slid his left hand lightly down Harry’s hard stomach. His jumper had ridden up in his sleep, and Draco nearly moaned aloud when the sensitive pads of his fingers encountered a springy, slightly coarse trail of hair around his navel. He petted the hair gently for a moment, then pressed his hand further down, over the waistband of the worn jeans until his fingers found the outline of the hard cock distending Harry’s fly. The bulge began low at his groin and curved to the right, caught between his thigh and the denim, and Draco’s breath caught as he traced the significant size and shape of it with his fingers. Harry murmured in his sleep and flexed his hips forward, and Draco paused, then covered the whole of the hard cock with his palm and gently squeezed.