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

Chapter Fifteen

   Harry looked over Malfoy's body. It was littered with scars, as was his own. But they had nothing between them like the slash across his chest where Harry's bullet had grazed him. The rest were small, indistinguishable from one another. The long line of raised tissue told a story. Their story.

"I did that to you." Harry reached out and touched where the mark crossed his sternum.

Surprisingly, Malfoy looked up from the soap at him with a fond smile. "Yes," he said.

Harry frowned, the sound of the water splashing hanging between them. "You don't mind it?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It is part of life," was all he said.

Harry expected Malfoy to start washing himself, then hand the softened bar over for Harry to use. But he clearly still didn't know as much about his partner as he thought.

"Turn," Malfoy instructed, giving Harry's hip a gentle poke. Harry arched an eyebrow at him, but did as he was told. Malfoy hadn't steered him wrong yet, after all.

He moved so his chest and left shoulder were under most of the stream. After Malfoy's hands-on behaviour thus-far, he anticipated it as he came and stood behind him, and wasn't disappointed. Malfoy took the soap and began to lather the suds across his back with both hands, pressing his fingers firmly against his skin. Harry groaned and leaned in closer, loving the way the pressure felt on his taught muscles. Malfoy stroked down his arms and spine, washing away the lingering traces of their time together, but leaving Harry with something more than skin deep. The hard brushes of his hands seeped down into his bones, settling there and warming them better than the hot water.

He only flinched slightly when Malfoy dipped his fingers between his cheeks, lightly stroking the hole he had penetrated mere hours before. It was tender, but having him gently touch it again reminded Harry of what they had shared together in the best possible way. Malfoy didn't ask if he felt okay, he simply washed him thoroughly, and kissed his neck from behind.

Harry let out a guttural sigh. His eyes drifted closed and he let his back lean against Malfoy's chest as his hands worked all over him. Between his legs, his cock was perking up again, and he moved to touch himself.

A stinging slap to the back of his hand made him jerk away, and Malfoy grinned down at him as he looked accusingly over his shoulder. "I would like to do this," he murmured, nudging Harry's nose with his own, until he was at a better angle for a kiss. Harry hummed, hoping that singled his consent.

It did, apparently. Malfoy was unhurried in his kissing, lapping Harry up like a cat enjoying a saucer of cream. He curled his long fingers around Harry's member and stroked slowly, luxuriously, as if they had all the time in the world.

"You are very pretty like this," he muttered into Harry's mouth.

He felt his cheeks redden. "Do shut up," he grumbled. He wasn't pretty, he was a bloody man.

Malfoy smiled into their kiss. "Of course," he told him in Russian.

His orgasm crept up on him this time. Rather than the spectacular explosion of last time, his pleasure grew inside him, like a kettle coming to the boil, until he was ejaculating against the tiled wall. The water washed away the evidence immediately, but Harry anticipated the thrum of happiness in his veins would most likely last for hours.

Because he was a gentleman, he ignored the weakness in his knees, and turned to offer a hand to Malfoy in return. But it worked out that Malfoy had his knees in mind anyway.

As Harry faced him, he captured either side of his jaw to pull him in for another kiss, leaving Harry free to palm his burgeoning erection. But before he could get any kind of serious rhythm going, Malfoy broke their kiss, and looked down at him with his steely grey eyes.

He bit his lip, studying Harry's face. Then he dropped his hands to Harry's shoulders, applying subtle pressure, and raised his eyebrows just slightly. Asking a question. Did Harry want to drop to his knees for him?

Much like buggering, Harry had experienced that there was generally a certain protocol involved with sucking another man's cock. Those most likely to find one up their arse, were also those more likely to be enticed to take one in their mouth. Harry had always considered himself an Alpha Male as the animal kingdom called it, and had never questioned the fact that it would be he, not the other man standing when it came to oral pleasure.

But Malfoy was asking this of him. His right hand was still pressing almost imperceptibly down on his shoulder, but the other came back to rub the side of his neck. His eyes flicked back and forth, no doubt trying to read what Harry held behind his, and the water poured down them both, still blissfully hot and soothing.

Harry knew the immeasurable joy one experienced when their cock was being tended to by soft lips and strong tongue, but not everyone was willing to lower themselves to such a base act. Is that what he wanted? Would Malfoy look at him with derision if he did this, or would he cherish it?