They keep moving, straining together and straining apart. Harry's whole body wounds tighter as they go, from competition and adrenaline, from lust and the long spiral towards orgasm. Malfoy's panting now, his pale skin blotchy, his mouth swollen from Harry's abuse. Harry leaves off his nipples and grabs at his wrists, holding Malfoy down.
Malfoy shouts, a wordless cry of rage, and his body arches in defiance. In lust, too. Malfoy hates that Harry knows this about him, knows that he loves to be held down. He squirms and fights, wrenching his whole body against Harry's grip. Harry holds on like grim death - he's got a weight advantage, and he keeps out of reach of Malfoy's teeth, but Malfoy's got a habit of surprising him. He grins and holds on, imprinting his grip onto Malfoy's bruisable skin. He'll leave his fucking fingerprints scattered over Malfoy's body, and tomorrow the robes will fall back and his colleagues will see the bruises manacling Malfoy's wrists.
Harry clenches and shifts against Malfoy's cock. It's glorious, and the feeling of victory compounds the heat in his core. The friction inside him is making it hard to focus, but he's going to win. Harry pants out his first words since this started.
"You love this, Malfoy. Don't know why you keep fighting me when you just want me to hold you down and fuck you til you can't move - "
Malfoy yells, a shout of inarticulate fury and lust, his eyes dark and mouth scarlet. Even knowing he'll get hurt, Harry can't resist it, so maybe he's lost after all: he kisses him.
Malfoy's mouth is hot from Harry's earlier bite, it's slick, and Harry kisses him and sucks his lower lip and sees stars behind his eyes. Malfoy doesn't bite, for a wonder; instead his mouth goes slack under Harry's. Harry takes advantage, and then he feels Malfoy's hips stutter under his, and Malfoy comes.
Silently. Harry's not sure what that means, if he still won, but it doesn't matter any more. Because the lust and the feeling of Malfoy giving it up to him, all that pleasure forced onto him by Harry, is bringing Harry over the edge too and he couldn't stop it if he tried. He yells into Malfoy's mouth and comes over Malfoy's stomach as his hands close yet tighter over Malfoy's wrists. Straddling him, taking his own pleasure from Malfoy's body. Surely that's a kind of victory. Right?
Then Harry moves, staggering away on wobbly limbs. Dressing and not looking at Malfoy's limp body and fucked-out expression. He tried lingering in the afterglow of victory once, and what Malfoy's fingernails did then almost made him cry.
Harry doesn't know why he keeps doing this. Maybe it's the war fucking him up, or maybe the Dursleys didn't hug him enough, or maybe it's just that Draco Malfoy always drove him past the edge of reason and now Malfoy has a gorgeous arse and a thick cock and his nasty smirk plays over lush lips. He doesn't know. He's not sure he cares, either.
He's going to keep doing it, because with Malfoy, compromise is surrender.
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branchandroot
Won The Battle, 2/2
Date: 2012-03-27 06:21 pm (UTC)Malfoy shouts, a wordless cry of rage, and his body arches in defiance. In lust, too. Malfoy hates that Harry knows this about him, knows that he loves to be held down. He squirms and fights, wrenching his whole body against Harry's grip. Harry holds on like grim death - he's got a weight advantage, and he keeps out of reach of Malfoy's teeth, but Malfoy's got a habit of surprising him. He grins and holds on, imprinting his grip onto Malfoy's bruisable skin. He'll leave his fucking fingerprints scattered over Malfoy's body, and tomorrow the robes will fall back and his colleagues will see the bruises manacling Malfoy's wrists.
Harry clenches and shifts against Malfoy's cock. It's glorious, and the feeling of victory compounds the heat in his core. The friction inside him is making it hard to focus, but he's going to win. Harry pants out his first words since this started.
"You love this, Malfoy. Don't know why you keep fighting me when you just want me to hold you down and fuck you til you can't move - "
Malfoy yells, a shout of inarticulate fury and lust, his eyes dark and mouth scarlet. Even knowing he'll get hurt, Harry can't resist it, so maybe he's lost after all: he kisses him.
Malfoy's mouth is hot from Harry's earlier bite, it's slick, and Harry kisses him and sucks his lower lip and sees stars behind his eyes. Malfoy doesn't bite, for a wonder; instead his mouth goes slack under Harry's. Harry takes advantage, and then he feels Malfoy's hips stutter under his, and Malfoy comes.
Silently. Harry's not sure what that means, if he still won, but it doesn't matter any more. Because the lust and the feeling of Malfoy giving it up to him, all that pleasure forced onto him by Harry, is bringing Harry over the edge too and he couldn't stop it if he tried. He yells into Malfoy's mouth and comes over Malfoy's stomach as his hands close yet tighter over Malfoy's wrists. Straddling him, taking his own pleasure from Malfoy's body. Surely that's a kind of victory. Right?
Then Harry moves, staggering away on wobbly limbs. Dressing and not looking at Malfoy's limp body and fucked-out expression. He tried lingering in the afterglow of victory once, and what Malfoy's fingernails did then almost made him cry.
Harry doesn't know why he keeps doing this. Maybe it's the war fucking him up, or maybe the Dursleys didn't hug him enough, or maybe it's just that Draco Malfoy always drove him past the edge of reason and now Malfoy has a gorgeous arse and a thick cock and his nasty smirk plays over lush lips. He doesn't know. He's not sure he cares, either.
He's going to keep doing it, because with Malfoy, compromise is surrender.