The Man From H.O.G.W.A.R.T.S. (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Twelve

   Harry bucked in shock, like a startled horse, his back arching as he cried out. Malfoy laughed at him. "Verb structures?" he repeated. And then he started hissing and rasping.

Harry had no idea what he was saying, but he couldn't imagine it was anything other than filthy. He rubbed his two fingers back and forth, stretching out Harry's entrance, and whispered his mysterious language between sucking open mouth kisses against Harry's throat. Harry snatched breath after breath, screwing his eyes shut as he lost himself to the various sensations Malfoy was inflicting most deliciously on him. "Fuck," he moaned rutting his cock shamelessly against Malfoy's thigh. The friction from two fingers was like a warm burn. It had been a shock to start with, but his body was becoming used to it, feeling more like pleasure than pain.

Malfoy's kisses trailed up to his jaw, the steady stream of ethereal hisses only pausing as he pressed his lips to Harry's skin. "I want you," he said, back to his Russian-laced English. His pupils were so wide, so blown with lust, that only a sliver of silver was left around the blackness. "This is your first time, yes?"

That made Harry sound like an inexperienced teenager, but Malfoy didn't ask with any pity or mocking in his tones. He sounded like he was stating a fact, like it was important for him to know.

Harry nodded, deciding not to be abashed. "Like this – this way around – yes."

Malfoy nodded. He removed his fingers from inside Harry and reached for the jar of lubricant again. "Then we will go slowly," he said.

He coated his leaking cock with firm strokes of his hand, and it had Harry's blood pulsing with want. He looked so erotic pleasuring himself, Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. He gripped tightly onto his shoulders, unable to respond to his assurance of going slowly with much more than a nod.

Using his dry hand, Malfoy snagged one of the pillows from the other side of the bed, where Harry's head was not lying, and dragged it down. "Lift hips," he instructed. Harry did as he was told, allowing Malfoy to slip the pillow under his back. "Legs up." Like when they had been pressed against the wall, Harry obediently picked up his feet and wrapped them around Malfoy's waist, prostrating his most intimate area for Malfoy.

With one hand, Malfoy braced himself above Harry; with his other, he took his glistening member and angled it to line up with Harry's entrance, rubbing the tip against the puckered skin. Harry groaned and tried not to push too obviously against it. He still had some dignity to cling onto, and seeming completely desperate to get fucked by his long-time rival was probably not the best way to go about it. Even if it was the truth.

Malfoy nodded at him. Are you ready? Harry nodded back.

So he began to push.

Harry grunted, but he was looking into Malfoy's eyes, and they slowly breathed in an out together. Relax, Harry told himself. This was fine.

He couldn't deny it did kind of burn, and the stretching was unpleasant – far more than his fingers had been. But Malfoy began to kiss him again. Soft little flutters against his lips as he murmured in Russian, telling Harry how well he was doing, how good he felt.

Harry had to once coach a skittish Italian girl through their time together, and by the end of it she had been an absolute ally cat under the sheets. But he had quite enjoyed caring for her during their initial first few moves together, seeing her become more confident in her own skin, recognising the moment when she had started to truly trust Harry. Now, Malfoy cradled him to his chest and whispered sweet nothings, and far from feeling emasculated, Harry felt like he could let go and transcend the pain. They were both in control, he could stop this at any time, but Malfoy wanted him to enjoy this.

"I've got you, little prince," he growled in his mother tongue.

Harry gasped as he felt Malfoy bottom out, buried in him as far as he could go. He hugged him to his body with both his arms and legs, panting as he slowly experimented with giving a tentative roll of his hips, shifting Malfoy's length inside him. It didn't feel so bad now. "I'm alright," he said, hoping he sounded a little less flustered than he felt. He was a grown man for crying out loud, in employment of Her Majesty's government. He shouldn't be reduced to a wreck by a spot of shagging.

Malfoy tutted and scowled. "I said we take it slow," he admonished. "I decide when you are ready."

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but he soon found it too full of Malfoy's tongue to speak. His kisses were urgent again and soon had him moaning hungrily. And as much as he hated to admit it, the longer he just rested with Malfoy's hard cock jammed inside him, the more pleasant the sensation got. He began to undulate, encouraging movement between them.

Malfoy pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Now who is naughty boy?"

Harry grinned at him. "Would you shut up and just fuck me already?"