Hot-Blooded

Chapter Four

Harry James Potter
Single-Traveller Portkey
Cairo to London
9:15 AM
6 May 2005
Successful? ✓

Draco records the Portkey information in the log and smiles, his stomach doing an involuntary little flip. He's back.

There's a sharp rap of knuckles on his open door as if on cue. "Malfoy?"

Draco forcibly restrains a full-bodied shudder at the sound of Harry's voice.

"Potter," he says curtly. "I have work to do."

"Really?" Harry crosses the short space between them, leaning into his space from behind and letting the heat of his breath ghost over his neck. Draco catches a whiff of his blood and can't resist closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. "Taylor said it was a slow day for Portkeys."

"Taylor is—oh." The warmth of Harry's mouth on his neck is distracting. "—a filthy liar."

"Hm." Harry waves a hand at the door, and it slams shut, Locking and Silencing spells whooshing into place. The brush of Harry's magic is always surprising—warm and pleasant against Draco's skin.

"Merlin."

Harry yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. "I won't keep you from your work for long," he murmurs. "I thought you might be hungry."

Draco's mouth waters. "So thoughtful, Potter. Endlessly self-sacrificing, aren't you?"

"Alright," Harry grins, working at the buttons on Draco's robes. "My motives aren't entirely selfless."

♡ "I know. You're a horny bastard." Harry's laugh is cut off by a strangled moan as Draco undoes his flies and slips a hand inside to palm the rigid outline of his cock through his pants. "I'm sure you could have found someone to service your cock in Egypt."

Several emotions flash through Harry's eyes before he closes them against the pleasure Draco inflicts with each light squeeze of his hand. Anger, repulsion, disbelief? Draco can't place them. He gives a cruel wrench of his wrist, and Harry gasps sharply.

"None as good as you," he says finally, opening his eyes. The casual tone sounds brittle, forced.

Draco fakes a smile and leans in to kiss him, hot jealousy twisting in his gut.

"Come to mine tonight," he says. "As soon as I get off work at five o'clock."

"Can't," Harry pants against his mouth. "I'm expected at the Burrow for dinner at five."

"That's a stupid name for a house, Potter." He licks his hand.

Draco slips a spit-slick hand into his pants, and Harry's breath hitches. "You're allowed your opinion," he says diplomatically, his breathing ragged.

"You don't agree?"

"I think it's brilliant." Harry turns around and pulls his trousers and his boxers down to his knees and turns to face the wall, bracing his arms against it. "Come on, Malfoy."

"Well, you have horrid taste in everything, so that makes sense." Draco's eyes land on the Snitch tattoo, and his stomach curdles. He pulls out his wand and flicks it at Harry. His pants and trousers are tugged roughly up. "Fine," Draco says coolly. "After."

"Could be quite late?" Harry turns around to look at him, his face flushed and his eyes wide.

"I don't care." Draco takes a step back.

"Don't you want to—?"

"Turns out I'm not hungry after all," Draco lies smoothly. "I already fed this morning. But I might be hungry tonight, if you show up." ♡